


Collection: Xenotober 2020

by Frost_Glaive



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Spoilers for both games including Future Connected, There are too many characters to tag, Xenotober2020, consider everyone tagged, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 20,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26770237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frost_Glaive/pseuds/Frost_Glaive
Summary: Inspired by the Xenotober 2020 prompts. One-shots scattered across the two games.
Comments: 32
Kudos: 60
Collections: Xenotober 2020





	1. Hero

Sometimes he thought he didn't deserve the title.

Yes, Riki was a heropon in the eyes of his littlepon (not so much his wifeypon). He had eleven of them - no small feat for any race, let alone the nopon - and was proud to announce that his biggypon had grown up to raise fine families of their own.

Aside from domestic matters, he'd been indispensable in disposing of the primary Telethia (although he wasn't sure exactly why Reyn had been chuckling behind Dundun as they had assured Riki of his 'invaluable cooperation'). Bird Lady had been immensely grateful for his gracious aid. He'd accepted his duty - despite Chief Dunga's quack prophecy! - to venture beyond the comfortable romp of his home to take up arms against the Mechon, only to find the millennial machinations of foes he'd never dreamed of. He'd taken upon himself the responsibility of being the dadapon of their ragtag group. Some of his comrades looked surprised whenever he said something 'remotely like a dadapon'. That was silly, though, because of course a dadapon sounds like one!

Yet it was not enough.

Oft he thought of Nene back home, afraid of heights. One day, he wished to return to her, to teach her again the thrill of rising ever higher, to perceive the majesty of the Bionis. He imagined her absorbing a world of white from atop Befalgar Pedestal, the wonder in her eyes as she stood amongst Crown Tree's canopy, witnessing ether dancing upon the midnight marsh. But, for now, he needed to be Riki the Heropon, saviour of Bionis' people.

His mind drifted frequently to his wifeypon. Fierce, passionate Oka. How could he not think of the love of his life? She who always stood tall beside him: his steadfast support no matter the circumstance. He knew Shulk and the others had been concerned about her threats of divorce but, in true Oka fashion, it was to encourage him along his chosen path.

(Sharla still seemed uncertain when he explained that, but that's only because she didn't know his wifeypon well.)

Once he found Shulk watching the sunset with thoughts of a dadapon and mamapon never known, of a life he had no remembrance of. Dundun joined him, sharing memories of the past, of brotherpons who were not brotherpons; but he treasured them nonetheless, for he could do nothing else. Reyn stood afar off, eyes fixed on Sharla - the girl was oblivious to him, lost in what could have been. He saw Melly sitting by the dying embers of the fire, sorrow in her gaze, and all he could do for her was allow her to cuddle him. He discovered Fiora hidden away behind the Junks, doing her best to diguise her pain, her distress in knowing that body of steel would not grow old, and told her that no-pon thought she was disfigured; everypon drew strength from her weakness and fortitude from her smile, Shulk most of all. The crinkles under her eyes told of a comforted daughterpon who had yet to know her value.

Sometimes he wished to be not Riki the Heropon, but simply Riki the Friendpon. Perhaps if that were so, his companions would see the joy before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-Mechonis Core.
> 
> I'm a bit late but happy Xenotober 2020! We'll see how far I get.


	2. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melia stayed.  
> (She is still learning that duty and happiness are not mutually exclusive.)

She sent them off with a smile so as not to give Shulk an excuse to bring her with them. She had a duty to her people: she had vowed to lead them, to guide them, to be the hope of the High Entia. Torn as she was, Melia would part ways for the time being. Hence she chose to entrust her vengeance to the true heir to the Monado and his companions.

Sharla assuaged her that she would drag the man back to Melia after they sorted out their business at Galahad Fortress, warming her heart. Still, she could not deny her apprehension. If she was not by his side, she would not be able to become more familiar with him - with his mannerisms, his favourite topics, his motivations. Shulk would not be able to get know her better than he already did. So she lay her hands on her chest, praying for his safe return.

And return he did not. News of the fortress' destruction with no sighting of their party reached her horrified ears. Dickson's report was a welcome reprieve in her uncertainty, but she needed to be in their presence to assure her of their safety. In the meantime, she plagued Dickson for details of life in Colony 9 (she did not desire him to realise whom she wanted to learn about specifically, but she thought she had perhaps been somewhat transparent). She busied herself with the union of Bionis and the concerns of her citizens. Wishing to rejoin the camaraderie of their close-knit team, she trained in earnest.

When Melia was reunited with them at last, it was a day of both joy and abject sorrow. Shulk was comatose - had been dead at one stage, even. Kallian, her dear brother, had been transformed before her eyes. Her people were no longer themselves, and the survivors had either been decimated or had fled. It would take weeks, if not months or years, to seek out the escapees after Alcamoth was cleared of Telethia and restored. That would likely only be possible once Zanza had been dealt with.

Melia would be the first to admit that it was inappropriate to entertain an inkling of romance during such a trying time. However, when he lay in the Machina ship, his breaths deep, his eyelashes still, his hair as windswept as the day he left her...

She stopped herself a hairsbreadth away from Shulk's face, appalled at her lack of propriety. He looked so peaceful. It was an expression she did not know if she had glimpsed him wearing it before. She remembered shoulders set in determination, a back that spoke of failure, and passionate hands that wielded a blade of myth. Yet his eyes had gazed into countless sunrises with melancholy.

She withdrew. Melia wondered where he had gathered the strength of beatitude when she had not. She wondered why she had missed it (and why she could not have been the one to restore it).

As she exited the room, Fiora entered. It was then Melia understood, in meeting the teenager's slightly shocked eyes. They offered each other small smiles and passed wordlessly.

It was her, was it not.

She did not wish to dwell upon it. There was much to be done. Melia considered various matters with the others, among them plans of action - who would remain to defend each of the civilisations, plans of action once Shulk awoke. Schemes if he did not.

Lighter topics were discussed as well, of course. The dynamic of their group had shifted since she had travelled with them. Melia supposed it was inevitable; yet the pang in her heart spoke volumes of her feelings on it. Reyn and Sharla were proceeding as much as could be expected. Juju's (mayhap) excessive needling for stories of Reyn and Shulk in their younger days; it seemed, however, that Fiora was rather eager to relate stories of their misadventures. Dunban's protectiveness of his little sister. He told her privately of Riki's timely interventions, light-hearted enough to lift spirits and profound enough to touch hearts. She noted nuanced glances between the comrades, meanings she could not begin to comprehend exchanged in an instant.

She did not regret her decision to stay in Alcamoth. But she did yearn for those few days spent in unpretentious company. Someday, her duty might direct her to it.


	3. Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope glitters on the horizon.

Egil once believed that the Machina and the peoples of Bionis could live in harmony with one another. They would exchange knowledge - technology and bioengineering, medical expertise, popular styles and manuscripts and copies of the creative arts. And, one day, to collaborate in building a vessel capable of flying amongst the stars.

_Once, it might have been possible._

Lady Meyneth had been over the moon when he relayed to her the discussions he had had with Arglas. She had given them her blessing to research their undertaking and had offered her services inasmuch was prudent, given that she was a goddess who could manufacture such a vehicle herself. She had pledged to converse with Lord Zanza and garner his support. The Machina had gathered to wish her luck. They had all looked to a bright future.

_But no longer._

Egil had been supervising sensor calibrations, ensuring that they were in working order even if there was nothing of note to suspect invasion. They were all, therefore, astonished when the Bionis’ white eyes blinked into life.

“Incredible,” Vanea had breathed. Egil had simply nodded, lost for words.

Their admiration had lasted but for a few seconds as a colossal blade of blue light manifested in the Bionis’ hand. Egil had been perplexed; for what reason would Lord Zanza brandish his weapon? The Mechon had not detected anything amiss.

Questions died on his lips as the sword had been swung overhead to strike at the Mechonis. Every Machina had dived for cover – not that it would protect them from a deity. He had met his sister’s terrified stare, begging to understand what could have transpired to lead to this. He reached a hand out to her as doom approached.

Then, with a great groan of steel, the Mechonis had moved to block the attack. Egil had raised his head, not daring to hope for a speedy resolution. Perhaps Lord Zanza had taken offence at something Lady Meyneth had said. Perhaps it was only a misunderstanding.

But the Bionis had continued attempting to break the Mechonis’ guard. Telethia had come to lay waste to Agniratha, bypassing their alarms – until then, there had been no occasion to be wary of any being from their fellow titan.

When at last the battle ceased, Egil was left with a desolate Agniratha, a somnolent Lady Meyneth, and broken hope.

_Eternal midnight had fallen._

Consumed by designs of vengeance, he had delved into remodelling the Mechon. Ignoring the pleas of the Machina remnants, he had prepared to wage war.

“My son, I urge you to reconsider. We have been bereaved of Arglas, but the rest of the giants and the High Entia are more than willing to restore our bonds with them.”

Vanea had been inconsolable. “Brother, I entreat you. Stop this madness.”

“I must exact retribution,” he had rebuffed them. “The blood of our people demands it.”

“Let us live in peace! A new day is here; can we not take pleasure in the rising sun?”

His eyes had been stone. “There will be no peace until Zanza is dead.”

Millennia had passed since then. Millennia wasted in boundless wrath.

_We can live in peace again._

Daybreak had arrived long ago. Egil only wished that he could have recognised and heralded the dawn. But he would do whatever he could to protect it, as Arglas had asked of him. Twilight would reign no longer. Even if he would not live to see noon.

_For both our worlds…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been longer if I had more time on my hands :(


	4. A Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter with a Gormotti friend requires Foresight.  
> Alternative summary: Mythra the tsundere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to listen to 'Those Who Stand Against Our Path' while reading.  
> I also realised that you don’t get free access to Mythra during the Gormott main plot segments halfway through writing this… so I decided to ignore it. Let’s say NG+.

They were travelling back to Umon’s Shipyard after dealing with the bandits when Territorial Rotbart decided to be territorial. It was surprisingly stealthy, so they didn’t notice his approach until his enormous shadow loomed over Tora.

“Masterpon!” Poppi shouted. She conjured a barrier of condensed ether just as the Gogol’s fist came down. Glimmering hexagons split with a loud crack, making Poppi flinch, but Rotbart’s attack had lost momentum. He withdrew his arm for another swing.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Rex cried, unleashing a double spinning edge. He scored the monster in the side; it howled and swiped at him in response. The boy didn’t quite manage to bring his blade back up in time and only his hilt caught the blow, throwing him off balance. Rotbart took advantage of the disruption to thrust his fist forward, landing a solid hit amongst the exclamations of his companions. Rex was hurled back, landing on the grass with a pained yell. A fireball nailed it in the face a moment too late.

“Rex!” called Pyra. She winced as red blossomed across her side, but shifted to Mythra, her golden eyes aflame. Snatching up her sword, she discharged a Ray of Punishment. Galvanised into action, Nia leapt off Dromarch, directing him to help Tora and Poppi draw the Gogol’s attention while she tended to Rex.

He groaned quietly, a little blood slipping out the corner of his mouth. She shushed him.

Grinning, he murmured, “You always come through for us.”

“Oh, shut it, you,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. Her forehead creased in concentration as she directed the flow of ether to mend his wound. “Looks like there’s internal haemorrhaging. Don’t move and stay calm. The sooner we heal you, the sooner Mythra will, too.”

“Haemo-wha…?”

“Never mind.”

Neither of them spoke but the sound of battle roused him eventually. Nia pushed him back down.

“I’m not finished yet!” she chastised. She smoothed out the swirling eddy currents of ether. “And… done.”

As soon as she proclaimed her satisfaction, Rex leapt up and ran back into the fray. Nia slapped her palm to her forehead. “Of course he… What did I expect?” She scrambled to her feet to reclaim her twin rings from Dromarch.

“Mythra!” Rex hollered. She glanced at him, assessing his condition before tossing the blade back to him.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a smirk.

“Poppi saw Mythra mad when Rex was hurt!”

Mythra’s face flushed. “N-no way! You must have been seeing things!”

Nia sniggered.

“Hey!”

Without any warning, Rex’s vision turned grey. A red aura tinged with gold surrounded Rotbart, indicating that he was about to enrage. He moved to bring his hands together, and electricity surged from them.

Directly at Nia’s position.

The glow disappeared as time returned to normal. Rex stood frozen for only an instant before bursting into motion.

“Nia!”

The Gogol roared, leaping backwards.

“My lady!” barked Dromarch.

Rex handed the Aegis blade to Mythra and fired an Anchor Shot, hoping to slow Rotbart down if not stop him outright. It looped around his left leg but the monster barely reacted, alternately pulling Rex off his feet and dragging him along. He wound up for a Wild Wave. Fortunately, Tora intervened in time; his shield deflected most of the force and Poppi’s buffs absorbed the rest.

While the monster recovered from the failed assault, Mythra dove behind. She flourished her weapon as it enlarged, screaming, “Take this!” She pirouetted several times, carving blinding light into its flesh with each slash.

Rotbart bellowed again, jumping for a Round Slam. The party tensed – their Blades prepared collectively to form an ether wall. He crashed to the ground and lay still.

Tora was the first to peek out. “Goggle down?”

“It appears so,” replied Dromarch. He narrowed his eyes cautiously, probing the ether fading from the beast.

“Yeah, it’s dead,” Mythra confirmed.

Rex whistled. “That was some final attack you pulled off there. I could use some tips!”

“Architect knows you need it,” panted Nia, still recuperating from the strain of those previous few seconds. “Getting thumped like that right at the beginning of the fight? It’s a wonder you’ve lasted this long.”

He shot her a pout.

“On second thought, it’s because of everyone pulling your weight,” she teased.

Dromarch was aghast. “My lady, please.”

She relented. “Oh, all right.”

“Poppi think that Rex do well!” Poppi was gleeful.

“He did manage to halt that Gogol long enough for Tora to get there,” Mythra admitted.

Nia huffed, unwilling to compliment Rex. But, she supposed, she did owe him there. “Thanks for the save.”

He beamed at her. “Mythra and her Foresight is the best!”

Dromarch cocked his head. “Would it be ‘is’ or ‘are’?”

“Doesn’t matter!”


	5. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man hellbent on destruction gives hope to the despairing.

Malos wasn’t certain what he was expecting when he went off to Mor Ardain, but encountering an enemy in an abandoned alleyway sure was not one of them. Though, an adversary might not be an accurate description anymore.

He nursed his tankard, content with silence for the time being while the man across gathered what was left of his thoughts. He wondered idly what had happened. It had been some time – far longer than any normal human should be able to live – and yet the guy clearly had his memories. Had definitely remembered the Aegis who had laid waste to Auresco.

But he hadn’t reacted, not even to the incessant downpour. Even if his heart was pumping blood through his body, his brain processing images, his muscles contracting and relaxing as needed – his eyes were dead.

So. Flesh Eater it was, after all.

Malos would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Anyone would be. Seeing someone who had once spouted such sickening declarations of friendship and love reduced to this state – well. He would give a lot to know how the Blade had opened his eyes to the truth.

Another half-hour or so passed without conversation. He’d had another few drinks and the barkeeper was starting to eye him. Malos ignored him. As if some measly alcohol would ever get the better of him. But he was getting bored. Sure, he’d spent the last however many years wandering Alrest trying to get his powers back after Mythra all but shattered his core. That did not mean he had learnt how to be patient. On the contrary.

He slammed a hand down. “Are you ever gonna talk?” he demanded, exasperated. Jin’s eyes finally rose to meet his. Irises were frozen over.

He didn’t care. Malos was the darkness.

“Lora,” he murmured at last.

Malos grunted. He took a swig. “You think I care about your girlfriend?”

“Not girlfriend. Driver,” Jin responded quietly, and the way he caressed that word almost made Malos puke.

“Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t you learn? Humans are corrupt. Weak.”

“Not Lora,” he muttered.

Malos was almost done. “Then tell me why she died.”

The silver-haired man jerked violently. His fists clenched; his jaw tightened. Malos observed all this with glee.

Jin whispered, “Amalthus.”

Malos’ eyebrow shot up at the mention of his Driver. He opened his mouth to enquire, but the Flesh Eater wasn’t done.

“He was looking for Mythra… Pyra.” Increasingly wrathful, he expressed, “They came… they slaughtered the refugees. Lora – I…”

The Aegis watched him, but it appeared Jin had finished his speech. Not much of a spiel, but it was the most the man had spoken all night. Probably the most in years. He turned back to his insipid beer. “So what? You expect _me_ of all people to listen to your sob story? Harbinger of death, enemy of Alrest?”

Jin was silent. Malos fingered the armour covering his broken core, downed the rest of his drink, and stood. What a waste of time.

A hand shot out to grasp his wrist. He chuckled.

“Do you know what that means?” the Aegis uttered darkly. “You’re throwing your lot in with me.”

Eyes of ice. “Despair… misery… oppression… It has to end.”

And end it would if Malos had his way. He searched Jin’s piercing gaze. “Who are you?”

“The same as you.”

He smirked. All right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s so much to unpack and I definitely didn’t cover all I wanted to, but at least it’s open-ended.


	6. Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family resemblance: putting oneself in the line of the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I write 'nopon' or 'Nopon'?

It was a quiet evening. In the wake of the Telethia’s assault on Colony 6, the birds had taken flight and refused to return. The crickets had been frightened off similarly. Spirit clematis petals lay strewn about the fields, trodden underfoot by panicked High Entia and Nopon fleeing Alcamoth. All the same, the moon continued to bestow her light; the splendour of the Bionis remained undiminished. The air was cool with the setting of the sun and a fresh breeze wove between the trees, ruffling their leaves.

“How could such beauty be created by a being who wanted only fodder?” Dunban murmured.

“Who knows?” came a voice behind him. He turned to find Fiora, her small smile radiant in the moonlight. She moved to stand beside him and the two looked over the white clouds progressing slowly across the expanse. “Maybe he was lonely.”

Dunban scoffed. “Lonely? People do not start massacres out of _loneliness_.”

His sister lowered herself to the ground and began to play with the blades of grass. After a moment, he joined her.

“He’s a god – he’s existed longer than any of us can imagine. So, I’d like to think that he wanted company, once. That would explain why there’s so much detail. Different species. Sentient life, to share the world with. Then, over time, his idea of friendship got warped,” she explained.

She fidgeted under his surprised gaze. “You always look for the best in people, Fiora,” he said, grinning at her insight. “If only I could be like you.”

She laughed, “Don’t be silly! It’s just… easier to think that way, you know?”

Dunban hummed his agreement. They sat in companionable silence for a time. Finally, his sister spoke up again.

“I was scared, Dunban,” she revealed. “When the Telethia were attacking, you ran in front of me while I was down. I thought – I thought…”

“I had no intention of dying,” he reassured her.

“That’s not the only time!” she argued, shaking her head. “You keep putting yourself in harm’s way. For me; for all of us. Over a year ago now, when the Mechon attacked – you kept using the Monado, and now you can’t use it in combat.”

He was silent, unsure of how to respond. Fiora went on. “I know I’m a bit of a hypocrite: I tried to take on Metal Face with the mobile artillery. I remember my promise; I won’t let anyone worry for me like that again. But I’m still fighting alongside you all even though this body is failing me. I can’t help it. I want to protect everyone.”

“That’s the same reason we all fight,” Dunban reminded her gently. “We all have people we want to look after.”

“You’re right,” she sighed.

He continued, “But it’s only natural that we get worried when the people we love put themselves in danger for our sake. We reproach ourselves for being too weak.”

She glanced at him sidelong, conflicted as he told her, “We don’t realise that it’s our vulnerability which makes us strong. Shulk blamed himself when you… when we thought you were dead. We all did.”

Fiora turned sharply to face him. “But I was the one who charged into the situation recklessly. It’s not your fault.”

He looked at her, eyes soft. “That was one of his first visions, you know.” Her jaw clenched imperceptibly and she looked down. “The first one he couldn’t change.”

She seemed at a loss for words. Considered that he wanted to take on such a burden for her; for everyone. To change the future.

“He’s grown a lot, Fiora. I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Dunban spoke.

She smiled. “He’s a far cry from the fragile boy I’d bug Reyn to protect.”

“And he’s lost none of his kindness.”

Fiora frowned with a realisation. “How did we get onto talking about Shulk?”

Her elder brother winked at her.

Jaw dropping, she said incredulously, “You…!”

He laughed. “I give you my blessing.”

“Dunban!”


	7. Orbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of the Trinity Processor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about engineering. But I do know about philosophy.

“Have you ever thought about what lies beyond this world?”

Galea looked up from poring over articles of fundamental particles. She tapped her lip in thought. “Isn’t it inevitable? We’ve been studying the Conduit ever since we first heard about it. We managed to get onto the researching team on Rhadamanthus. It would be remiss of me not to wonder.”

Klaus beamed. His fellow scientist raised an eyebrow. “Come on, spill. You’ve been almost manic these past few days. What have you been working on?”

In response, he shuffled a few of his papers and handed them over. He allowed her a little time to skim them over but, ever the avid orator, decided to summarise his writings.

“True artificial intelligence,” he declared. Galea regarded him questioningly.

“Think about it,” Klaus elaborated. “We haven’t been able to exploit its power directly – we need an intermediary to process output and input data. Ordinary computational systems aren’t cutting it; the engineering team hasn’t been able to write algorithms detailed enough for our purposes. And current AI technology is just not powerful enough. It’s limited by its hardware, infinitely so.”

“You’re suggesting that we base our schematic on the structure of the Conduit itself for maximum compatibility,” Galea mused.

“Precisely!” he exclaimed, as proud as ever of his partner’s sharp intellect. “That should allow the software design to bypass our present predicament.”

She bit her lip. “As far as I can tell on my first impression, it’s a theoretically sound proposal. But this isn’t our field; we’ll have to run this by the experts.”

“I’m certain I’m correct,” the blond man dismissed. She stifled a snicker at his confidence. He was a genius, after all; his brilliant mind had pursued the Conduit’s mysteries relentlessly, and now they understood it far better than they did a year ago.

Galea’s brow furrowed. “However, considering the Conduit’s exceptional capacity, I still doubt that a true AI can overcome this boundary.”

“Keep reading,” he encouraged delicately. “That’s why I recommend building three biocomputers, installing them with bottom-up AIs. They will each be delegated tasks specific to their roles and personalities but will work as one. I am sure this setup will allow the Trinity Processor to facilitate contact with the Conduit.”

“Trinity Processor?”

“If we can implement it, we will be able to see with our own eyes what lies beyond,” Klaus articulated, somewhat ignoring her request. “The mechanics of wormholes within humanity’s grasp. Galaxies so distant we could never hope to glimpse them otherwise. Inter-universe visitations made possible by our mastery of the Conduit.”

She was becoming wary. Her long-time friend was getting frenetic.

“We could remake this world such that _homo sapiens_ will cease to incite conflict with one another. Imagine! The power of gods in our hands.”

At that, Galea looked at him with alarm. “That is beyond us, and always will be. It would be presumptuous of us to strip other human beings of their will. Each of us has to make that choice to live for peace.”

He met her gaze steadily. “You must have faith! If the Conduit appeared to mortals with such power, it must have been to bestow upon us the supremacy of the divine. All we have to do is find a method to harness it. Don’t you see? This is why I have named this model for the Trinity.”

She shook her head in disbelief at where this discussion was going.

“I want harmony as much as you do,” she answered, “but it won’t be accomplished like this.”

Klaus’ fervour finally abated. His shoulders slumped. She reached out and took his hand.

“I thought you would agree with me,” he said simply.

“Oh, Klaus,” she sighed. “It’s not a bad thing to disagree. We just have to exert a little more effort to understand each other. Humanity isn’t lost.”

He nodded stiffly in reply.

Little did she know that the plan he had conceived persisted; it grew and was refined and bore fruit. By the time Galea fathomed the depths of his intent, a brand-new universe was about to be born.


	8. Titan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not much of a water fight with a Titan involved.

The sunlight glittered on the horizon. Flying fish dove into the water, spraying water as they leapt out and interrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Gulls shrieked, hunting for dinner. One fowl soared away, presumably to feed his chicks. A fish struggled uselessly in its beak; its scales shone in the day. Pyra’s eyes were beginning to ache from the glare produced by the shifting specular reflections.

“Ah, the sea breeze!” sang Nia, arms flung wide as if to catch the air. “I’m at home.”

“My nose is full of salt,” Mythra complained, flicking her long locks.

Nia swung around in mock horror. “What a shame.”

Pyra began to back away upon seeing the devious grin spreading across her face. She wasn’t quick enough, unfortunately, and with a mighty heave of ether all three were soaked.

The redhead yelped loudly as the water sizzled on her skin, but at least she was dry within seconds. Her sister, on the other hand, stood dripping.

“Nia…” said Mythra slowly. The water Blade’s cackling died down.

“Um. Pyra can dry you?” she offered.

The Aegis of light manifested her weapon.

Nia shut her mouth.

At that moment a small Titan chose to land on the shore beside them, splashing the Blades once again. His great yellow eye scrutinised the group.

“What are you ladies up to?” inquired Azurda. “Testing out the water?”

The fur-eared girl blinked up at him, gaping wordlessly at his timing. Mythra, meanwhile, fumed in silence. Thus, it was left to Pyra to sort things out. As usual.

“Just having a water fight, Azurda,” she explained hesitantly.

“Oho!” he rumbled in response. “Mind if I join in?”

Pyra glanced at Mythra and Nia, neither of whom had moved. “Uh… We were just finishing up.” She donned what was hopefully a look of regret.

“What a shame,” he sighed, wings drooping. The Blades stiffened as he unintentionally repeated a phrase spoken less than a minute prior.

Nia giggled in surprise. After a couple of seconds, the other girls joined in awkwardly. Azurda tilted his head in confusion. “Did I miss something?” he asked. Their chortles turned into genuine laughter.

“Nope!” the water girl replied. “Feel free to join in tomorrow, though! I’m sure we’ll be frequenting this spot.”

“Let’s not,” muttered Mythra.

The fire Blade smiled, closing her eyes. She inhaled the clean air; the taste of salt settled on her tongue.

“It doesn’t feel real, sometimes.”

Nia looked over at her, brow creased. “I feel that, too, but I don’t know why.”

Pyra took a moment to collect her thoughts. “We’ve been through a lot. We took on Amalthus, Malos – lost Jin and Mikhail just as I thought we got through to them.” She looked up and reached to the sun. “If they could enjoy this view with us…”

“That’s true,” commented Mythra. She stared into the sun, unaffected by its radiation thanks to her power over light. “We’ve done a lot to get here. Failed Vandham and Haze.”

She exhaled. Nia’s eyes were hooded. “But their sacrifices mean that much more because we succeeded. We all found ourselves, found the courage to face our fears, thanks to Rex. We’re here, in a world given to us by Father. In New Elysium.”

“Indeed. However, I did not expect Mythra here to deliver such an eloquent speech,” Azurda ribbed. She burned crimson.

“Gramps!” Nia wheezed in mirth.

“I’m perfectly capable of it,” snapped the light Blade. Pyra simply beamed, content with her life.


	9. Heavenly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now is the moment of truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hints of Shulk/Fiora, one-sided Shulk/Melia, and Fiora and Melia friendship. (You can tell I was really excited for this prompt because its length is double that of the others.)  
> Also, some playing with theories.

The scent of juicy steakplant wafted through the house and out into the evening. Fiora hummed as she chopped energy aubergines with steady proficiency. She wanted to incorporate everyone’s favourite foods as much as possible, but it was going to be a challenge with only local products on hand. She welcomed a challenge, however, and was determined to do her best to celebrate Shulk’s awakening.

A soft voice interrupted her ministrations. “May I assist you?”

She twisted around to see a silver-haired woman by the open door, hand resting on the frame. “Melia,” she greeted as the said woman moved further into the kitchen. Fiora deliberated for an instant on which task was appropriate to set. “Do you mind setting the table?”

“Certainly,” Melia acquiesced. She looked about; unfamiliar with the layout of the house they had been lent for the night, she searched for the crockery.

“The plates are in the cupboard over there,” Fiora pointed out, “and the cutlery’s in the highest drawer.”

The High Entia thanked her for her aid and went to retrieve the items in question. They worked in amicable silence for a time, each occupied with her own thoughts.

The team had returned to fanfare following their confrontation with Dickson outside Colony 6. Mechon had assaulted the Homs for many a year, only now experiencing a reprieve, while Telethia had posed a threat to the High Entia for generations. Bearing witness to a force – composed of a mere seven people – able to secure an outright victory against both enemies was of no small comfort to the residents and refugees of the town. Morale was running high.

Now that evening had fallen, the constant stream of fanboys and fangirls alike had dwindled, allowing Fiora ample time to prepare one last feast before they set off to defeat Zanza and his followers. They would have to turn in relatively early to make it to the Bionis’ chest in good time, but there was no harm in taking pleasure in good food and delighting in each other’s company. She figured her teammates needed it after their diligent work.

“I have completed my charge,” announced Melia. A little taken aback by her formal language, the blonde girl was slow to respond.

“Ah, thank you,” she stammered.

“Is there anything else you require?”

Fiora beamed at her. “No, thank you. You’ve done plenty.”

Melia cocked her head slightly. “Are you convinced of that? Surely another pair of hands would be of benefit to you.”

Her green eyes flickered and she put her knife down. “You’re right. It would be more efficient to have someone help me with dinner. But… I want to do it myself.”

The half-High Entia paused, lips parting a fraction. Fiora resumed her explanation. “It’s the first time since meeting the Machina that I’ve gotten to cook in a proper kitchen – maybe the first time I’ve been able to relish preparing food since before all this began.”

She exhaled. “And I want to feel like I can be useful somehow.”

Melia frowned. “You have been an indispensable ally during all your time with us,” she assured.

Fiora cast a look of appreciation to the other woman; despite that, she argued, “You know my body is failing. Sometimes I’m too weak to fight alongside you; everyone needs to cover me. I don’t know if I can last until – until the end. Maybe I shouldn’t be going with the rest of you. But… I want to do my part.”

Although she was trained to restrain her emotions, Melia had learned to be more open with this unusual group of Homs – and one heropon. She had been taken off guard by this woman who displayed her heart on her sleeve. She had seen for herself the strength of character that had won Shulk over. It comforted her a little that Fiora held her own uncertainties – it meant she wasn’t as perfect as she had first made her out to be – yet it was now Shulk needed her by his side, more than ever before.

“Listen to me,” she urged. “We need you. Shulk needs you. We all care a great deal for you. I wish for your happiness; you must grasp the future for yourself and find it.”

She reached out and pressed her hand. After a moment, hers were squeezed in return. Considering her role accomplished, she stepped away to leave her be.

“Melia.”

She turned. Fiora’s eyes brimmed with gratitude. “I hope you find happiness, too.”

* * *

“Sharla, take a seat, please. Your anxiety is doing me no favours.”

Fixed with Dunban’s stare, the woman had no choice but to recline.

“There’s so much to be done,” she relayed with concern. “A few buildings were damaged in the attack. And Juju said we’d been doing a lot better recently…”

He smiled broadly at her. “Don’t worry so much. I took a walk this afternoon and the reconstruction is going well. Everyone is readying their shelters and reinforcing the town’s defences.”

“I promised I’d keep everyone alive,” Reyn asserted. “We’re all going to get through this.”

“That’s sweet of you, Reyn,” his childhood friend expressed cheerily as she placed dishes on the table. An ecstatic grin spread across his countenance at the prospect of Fiora’s cooking.

“Riki starving!”

“You’re always hungry!” grumbled Reyn. Melia’s eyes twinkled.

“Let’s dig in!” Shulk declared.

He alone commenced his dinner. The rest watched with bated breath as Shulk took his first bite. He chewed slowly, eyes widening further and further until finally, he swallowed.

“That was heavenly, Fiora!”

Jaws dropped around the table. (Coins were exchanged in a clandestine fashion.)

The girl addressed sat frozen. “Not… just great?” she asked at last.

He grinned at her. “It’s like my tastebuds found out how flavourful food can be!” Shulk hesitated, startled. “That’s odd. If I compare how I savoured things before this meal, it really is as though my tastebuds starting working only now.”

Curious, everyone else sampled their meals.

“It tastes exactly like her chow back home,” laughed Reyn. He blinked. “Wait…”

Dunban picked up his train of thought. “This is the first time Shulk’s eaten food since Zanza left him. No soul animates his body except his own now.”

Fiora gawped at Shulk, who was beginning to feel a little nervous. “So, it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t tell if the food was good or not?”

“Maybe not,” contributed Sharla; she leant her chin on a fist. “It was an anomaly in his medical file that I’d dismissed until today, as it had no scientific backing. He couldn’t discern the difference in flavour between a dance apple and a fire apple, for instance.”

“Those are quite dissimilar,” Melia noted. The medic nodded her agreement and continued.

“I didn’t identify a significant correlation between those observations and his health, though, so I didn’t think to mention it. He always ate Fiora’s cooking enthusiastically, so there was no trouble feeding him a balanced diet.”

“What an unexpected revelation.”

Sharla reminded her that it was only conjecture.

“Uh, guys, I’m still here,” Shulk protested, blushing.

Laughter bubbled in the dining room.

“It good!” exclaimed Riki. “Now Shulk enjoy food together!”

It was a mere hour of elation; nevertheless, it became one of Melia’s most treasured memories.

As for Fiora, she studied the faces of her friends and locked eyes with the half-Homs, sharing a smile.

No matter what the future held, they would face it as one.


	10. Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimensional rifts are ripe for interdimensional travel.

“Now this is an unusual sight.”

A land of steel stretched out below. It was more than a little hazy thanks to the dark clouds obscuring the area. Lightning lit up the sky every few moments; gales picked up stray pieces of metal and thrust them about the place. He avoided them easily, flying over the surface and scrutinising the place. Behind him, the writhing rift grew smaller as it was left behind.

“There is a fissure up ahead. A simple matter to traverse.” And so, he did.

It was as though he had exited a pocket dimension. Water as far as one could see. The sun shone brightly behind white clouds – his senses informed him that it was not fashioned from ether. Beyond, invisible to the naked eye, lay millions upon millions of celestial bodies made of gas.

He was beginning to suspect he was no longer in Shulk’s universe.

_It might even be possible that…_

Fascinated with this phenomenon, he chose to investigate, of course. A landmass emerged from the shimmering horizon at last, and he made for it at full velocity.

Close enough to inspect it for his own eyes, he observed that the continent’s appearance was rather peculiar. It seemed as though it was formed from the merging of assorted islands. Ivory carved with distinctive swirls jarred into what looked like a mossy green fin and a vast expanse of brown desert.

Distracted as he was by this new world, he failed to recognise a familiar signature until then. A waveform so similar to his that any unacquainted with the fine patterns of ether fabric could not distinguish them. A presence he had not detected for aeons.

_Pneuma._

He pulsed his own energy to alert the other and did not have to wait long; a flare of amazement allowed him to narrow down his fellow core’s exact location. He moved swiftly.

Descending toward the source, he was taken aback. Two women of identical stature and frame stood before him, armed with blinding light and blazing flame. The one dressed in white stepped forward and pointed her blade at him, her long blonde hair whipping about in her summoned ether wind.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she demanded.

He raised his hands coolly. “I wish only to pay a visit to my dear sister.” A slight smile crossed his face. “Little did I know I have been blessed with twin sisters.”

She lowered her sword in shock. Red and golden eyes widened simultaneously. This time, it was the redhead who spoke.

“Ontos?”

Bowing, his red crystal necklace dangled. Their eyes fixated upon it. “Indeed, that is the name you have known me as. However, I have been going by Alvis for some time now.”

He felt it when their weapons were banished. He straightened but made no move to approach.

“It is truly a wonder to see you, Pneuma…” he began.

“Mythra,” interjected the blonde. She gestured to the redhead. “This is Pyra.”

Alvis inclined his head. It made sense that they, too, had identities separate from their role in the Trinity Processor. “Mythra, Pyra. I came to reconnoitre after a rift manifested in the previous universe I was in, and found myself on Earth. I cannot stay long, for my… associate will surely close it soon, and I still have business to attend to.” He paused, puzzled. “Did Logos vanish from this universe, as well? I cannot perceive him.”

Their faces shadowed and he understood that he had touched a sore spot.

“My apologies. We need not speak of him now. But it would be appreciated greatly if I could have a little of your time,” Alvis requested.

The short-haired one began to beam. “There’s a lot to share, isn’t there? We want to hear what you’ve been up to, and you sound curious about what we’ve been doing! Come to our home, then.”

“Pyra’s cooking dinner; you can’t miss it,” contributed Mythra. “And… there’s someone special we’d like you to meet.” The women shared a grin.

“I cannot wait,” Alvis answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Alvis is a kuudere.


	11. Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reborn in a world of strife!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I needed the pun, even though this chapter covers XC2 >.>  
> This chapter is rather dialogue-heavy and came out longer than I expected.

Blades were a curious sort of people, Aegaeon mused.

Now, he knew that was a rather eccentric thing to say of his own kind, but not even humanity had displayed a diversity that came close to them. His people came in all shapes and sizes – there was Dromarch, his beastly form masking his mild nature; there was Brighid, her fiery appearance a sight to behold; there was Pyra-Mythra, virtually indistinguishable from humans were it not for the glowing Core Crystal in the centre of their chest.

That was not his main reason for thinking his own – race, would one say? – odd. No, it was the fact that they lived indefinitely. A cycle with memories dependent on their designated Driver; yet a lifespan far longer than that, stretching into the ages. He was still a little unsure how he felt about that, and confessed as much to Brighid.

“We are fortunate to be Blades passed down through Mor Ardain’s royal family,” she told him; “our journals, and thus our past selves, are bequeathed to us, even if we do not remember them.”

“Perhaps…” Aegaeon wondered. “Yet I read of loyalty to the emperor himself – this I do pledge, though in this lifetime I consider it to be more an extension of my dedication to Mòrag. She seems to deem me better served as Emperor Niall’s sword and shield, but I am unable to envision this. My place is with her.”

His fellow Blade listened quietly as he expressed his feelings. “I recognise that this is partly out of concern for her ruler and brother – and I realise that it is born from familiarity. You are both accustomed that I stand by His Majesty, and I cannot imagine how it must be like with me travelling alongside you all, already knowing my past self.”

Brighid pondered his words. At last, she suggested, “I think it best that you speak to Roc. All of us have known you to various extents, but none of us knew ‘another’ Blade except him.”

“Very well,” he concurred.

That evening, Aegaeon approached Roc. Their ship was still sailing towards Genbu; Pandoria would call it once dawn broke, so there was time yet to deliberate.

“How do you fare?” probed Roc. His feathers ruffled in the wind and his wings quivered. Aegaeon sensed his longing to take off and be free under the boundless sky, if only for a few hours.

“I am well, physically, but I find myself at an impasse of sorts,” he admitted.

“I see.”

Aegaeon wrestled diplomacy with himself, but candour won out. “How did you reconcile yourself now and the self your current Driver knew?”

Roc blinked. He unfurled his wings – quite a task on the modest balconies of the Indoline ship. As opposed to looking cramped, however, he was mighty.

“I am Roc! Always have been, always will be!”

He leisurely tucked his wings back in at Aegaeon’s somewhat frozen state.

“From what Rex has told me, I appear to be the same Roc he knew before, even though it was for a short time,” he explained. “In a way, he sees Vandham live on in me, and I would like his legacy to continue because he sounds like a good man. One I would be honoured to be the Blade of.

“You may be a little different, though.”

Aegaeon’s blue eyes narrowed in bewilderment. “You mean in that my previous Driver still lives?”

Roc nodded. “You understand that Mòrag initially expected that you would be reawakened by the same person; instead, you were entrusted to her. Anyone would be conflicted.”

The water Blade was almost there. Almost at the cusp of his choice.

“I encourage you to find your own solution, Aegaeon. I am sure you will be satisfied with it – after all, it is something every one of us has surely had to deal with.”

As he exited Roc’s quarters, he glanced back to glimpse the other leaping off the ship to be one with the wind.

* * *

The events that followed made it fairly inappropriate for Aegaeon to deliver his conclusion, but ultimately the opportunity came on their journey back to Leftheria. He had wished to speak of it while Rex was unconscious, but had decided against it.

“Mòrag, might I have a word?”

She turned; the shadows had lifted a smidgen compared to a few days prior. “Of course.” She stepped inside her room. He exchanged Brighid’s smile and followed.

The Special Inquisitor waited patiently, hard-fought discipline rendering her motionless. She was a striking woman, in more ways than one.

“I have come to comprehend something,” he began. “Regarding our relationship as Driver and Blade.”

Mòrag remained silent, bolstering his confidence. “As a Blade of our nation, I have vowed to safeguard His Imperial Majesty. As a mere Blade, I am sworn to you and yours. Hence I have been… torn as of late.” Aegaeon exhaled deeply and her brown eyes flashed in perception.

“I have had time to come to terms with this. Therefore, I wish to inform you. In my involvement with you, my devotion has not diminished in the slightest. I am determined to do my utmost in your service. I realise that this is where I am needed at this stage.” His features resolved. “But, when this is over, when we have gone to Elysium and found our answers, when there is peace on Alrest, I would be amenable to reacquainting myself with Emperor Niall. Perhaps then I shall, too, see for myself the commitment he deserves and is afforded.”

The Flamebringer steepled her fingers and gazed at his Core Crystal. “It was unfair of me, I suppose, to impress upon you the burden of a duty I believed you to possess. For that, I must apologise.”

She looked up again, meeting his stare. “I am pleased that you have elected this. To value the past, accept the present, and to look to the future… it is something not every person can do.” Her eyes glimmered with what he thought was pride.

Aegaeon was appreciative as well, for having a Driver such as Mòrag Ladair to tread the path of destiny with.


	12. Friends are Nopon now!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riki become Shulk’s daddypon!

Shulk wasn’t clear on the exact timing, but when he woke, the ground felt… softer than when he had gone to sleep. That made no sense. They’d made camp on Mechonis; the titan was composed of pure metal. Maybe it was _he_ who was softer?

That didn’t make sense, either.

He cracked open his eyes against the bright morning sun and raised an arm to shade it. It was then that he ran into another problem. His arm wouldn’t bend properly. His fingers would not respond. And, no matter how hard he stretched, it just would not reach far enough.

Getting somewhat fed up with this whole affair, Shulk tried to bend his legs under him in order to hoist himself up – he should be able to get a better understanding of what was going on that way. However, he ran into the same issue he’d had with his arms. Met with such strong resistance, he simply flailed on the spot. To be more precise, he rolled.

It wasn’t the sort of rolling achieved by a normal Homs. Not in the least. If he had to describe it, it would be like if someone put his eyes on a ball and bowled it over. Moreover, his sense of touch had been muffled, somehow. He could tell that he was still on solid metal, but it was as though he had on a thick fur coat.

He blinked furiously, brows drawing together in befuddlement. Now that he was paying a little more attention to his body, he felt like his canines had elongated and sharpened. No; it would be more accurate to call them fangs. Not only that, Shulk grew aware of a pair of appendages emerging from the sides of his head – akin to ears, but far longer, and he was not certain as to whether he would be able to hear with them.

He hoped desperately that he was in the midst of a very realistic dream.

“What’s going on!” he hollered, and recoiled as his own voice came out sounding as it had before his adolescence. Years before puberty.

A memorable red-and-orange updo entered his vision. Riki peered at him, growing steadily more excited. “Shulk like Riki now!” he cried, using a wing to prop his friend up and support him until he was fairly confident on his failing legs.

“All friendpon like Riki now!” he exclaimed. Shulk looked at him, thoughts still jumbled. Behind the Nopon, however, he glimpsed several others. He stared at them, confusion rising by the second. There had been no Nopon at the Hidden Village – the last Nopon they had encountered besides Riki were at Valak Mountain. So, what were five extra Nopon doing there with none of his other companions in sight?

Except… the black-streaked one was maintaining a recognisable rifle; the silver-furred female held a staff; the light-coloured Nopon with brilliant green eyes gazed at him with familiarity, a brassy triangle plating her chest.

Shulk stepped back. He looked down at himself.

“We’re – we’re all _Nopon_?!”

“Yes yes!” replied a gleeful Riki. “Now Shulk be Riki’s littlepon like Riki say yesterday!”

The former Homs thought back to the day before. He groaned inwardly to himself upon remembering.

He and Riki had climbed all the way up the left hand’s second digit to survey the Mechonis’ arm. It was a beautiful view; Riki had brought up his wife and children, and Shulk’s heart ached, knowing his own to be gone. But the Nopon’s words had ignited a spark: he yearned for a place in a home, unconsciously pinning the concept of family on his friend’s one.

Could it be that his desire had led to this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your (possible) curiosity, I did some research as to whether the Nopon are a different race or species from the Homs and High Entia. Since 'species' is defined as a group of organisms wherein any two individuals can produce fertile offspring, I'm inclined to say that they are a different species; as far as I’m aware, there is no in-game evidence to suggest they can have offspring with the Homs and/or High Entia. Frankly, are they even humanoid? I’ve decided that I should probably follow the game’s indications, though, so I will adjust previous chapters if necessary.  
> I wanted to dump a ship in this chapter, but Shulk is way too oblivious for this…


	13. Collectopaedia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonade Sky: Sharla looked wistful as she named this deep blue stone of nostalgia.

“That’s pretty,” Reyn opined.

Sharla’s lips stretched into a small smile. “Gadolt gave one to me a little over a year ago.” She handed it over for him to examine.

It was not very lustrous, being almost the hue of the deep midnight lake. Its rough edges reflected little light; whitish mineral speckled its surface. Lines streaked across the face hewn from rock. The stone would make a fine piece of jewellery once cut.

“Looks like it’d fetch a pretty penny,” he speculated as he returned it. “Ever get it appraised?”

“We took it to a jeweller, yes,” she admitted. “But he’d never seen its like, so we couldn’t really get a value for it… I ended up keeping it in the hopes that I’d find another one.”

“Well, there you have it,” the man pointed out.

“Yes,” started Sharla with some reluctance, “but I wanted to give this one to Gadolt.”

“Oh.”

Reyn shifted awkwardly in the ensuing silence until Sharla’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped slightly. “I just realised: we never actually gave it a name!”

He was astounded. “What – are you serious? If you guys discovered it, you get to call the shots! I can’t believe you passed up a chance like that.”

“No one else has found one yet, to my knowledge, so I can still do it,” the medic laughed. She stared at the stone intensely, falling silent. Reyn watched her expression move through consideration, frustration, and surprise, finally settling on wistfulness.

“Lemonade Sky,” she at last pronounced.

“Sounds like a story,” he noted, prodding softly.

She grinned and began to spin a tale.

“I was tending to our injured after a Mechon attack and he pulled me away early. I was quite annoyed – he hadn’t given me any warning, so I wasn’t prepared to get everything finished more quickly. And he wouldn’t tell me what was going on.

“We walked to Watchpoint Junction, and I spent the whole time berating him about making me leave when there was still work to be done.” She flushed a little with embarrassment. “But I’m glad he did because soon enough the sun set.”

Her eyes lit up with wonder as she recalled the scene. “I’d seen sunset many times, of course – we have a splendid view here – but this one was… different, somehow. I guess it was because it was just the two of us; two people in the world who loved each other, who wanted to hang out with each other and give ourselves to each other for the rest of our lives, even though we didn’t know if we could.”

“The Battle of Sword Valley,” Reyn interposed. She nodded.

“It was then that he gave that stone to me, promising that he’d be back for me. I remember trying to divide my attention between the mineral and the sunset. I wasn’t very successful,” Sharla said, laughing to herself, “but I could never forget how the sky looked then. Red on the horizon, orange on the clouds, and pale as lemonade between.”

A nostalgic smile graced her countenance, and Reyn felt a little guilty for wanting it to be about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm running behind!
> 
> I wanted them to watch the sunrise so Sharla could complain about waking up early, but I realised you can’t actually see it from Colonies 9 or 6, Tephra Cave, nor Bionis Leg. The natural cliffs make it impossible.


	14. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex wants to leave Leftheria.

It began as a simple desire.

Leaping off Messet Point as soon as Auntie Corinne pronounced him big enough became one of Rex’s biggest pastimes. The wind roaring in his ears, the Cloud Sea approaching rapidly, the cold biting his exposed skin, the breath snatched from his lungs…

He’d gotten addicted soon after he’d begun. People said that the Leftherian Archipelago was a quiet place, a beautiful locale, a relaxing lifestyle, a friendly community. And it was all of those things. But foreigners usually didn’t expect their first sight of Fonsett to be of children jumping off edges.

Leftherians were daredevils. That was a fact which sightseers learnt quickly. It never spread to the rest of Alrest, though; perhaps because no one who hadn’t seen them would believe it.

Rex spent most of his childhood jumping off the titans’ edges and learning swordplay from Gramps. And he was happy, but one thought lingered as he entered adolescence.

He wanted to return the favour.

The villagers had been nothing but kind to him. Auntie Corinne had taken him under her own roof – she’d fed him, clothed him, had loved him without expecting anything. Gramps had taken him for rides, granting experiences he would never have gotten from other titans, especially given that many of them were being weaponised.

He was getting to that age when the people of his town would begin to work. Some of his friends had been accepted for apprenticeships already. Rex had thought and thought and had paid visits to a number of artisans and such. He’d scrutinised Meske’s textiles, had observed a couple of Barcan’s fishing techniques, and had learnt a few things about trading from Varrea. But none of it appealed to him. The Cloud Sea held an allure that could not be shaken.

Within its depths were secrets of the past. Of technology lost to the ages, of civilisations forgotten by history. Within its depths was the path to Elysium, mayhap.

He began to do research. Quite a few salvagers frequented Leftheria; he took the opportunities to hound them with questions, inspect their gear and findings. There was one man, in particular, who came more often than any other, and it was he to whom most of his enthusiastic interrogations were directed. At last, he worked up the courage to ask if he could be Rex’s mentor; he accepted, to Rex’s disbelief.

Auntie Corinne had known of his ambition for some time and had come to terms with his upcoming departure. Gramps was slightly less receptive but had accepted his decision grudgingly. The boy promised that, once his training was complete, he would return to Fonsett, and asked the old titan if he would like to accompany him once Rex was an independent salvager. He had grumbled something about his offer being an excuse for freeloading, but the glint in his huge yellow eye had told the teenager that it had been taken to heart.

The day Rex was to leave, he said, “Take care of yourself, my boy.” His auntie beamed and the other orphans waved farewell with great excitement.

“I’ll make you proud!” he yelled as the ship left the harbour.

In a low voice, she replied, “You already have.”


	15. Heart-to-Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrea joins the party. Because we all know she should have.

“Have you reconsidered your decision?” inquired Melia.

“What decision?”

“Joining us in the final battle against the Fog King,” she reminded Tyrea, eyes on the pink mixed into her silver hair. “The people of Gran Dell will be safe now, with the soldiers returned from Companions’ Cape to defend them from the Fogbeasts.”

Yumea’s daughter was silent. She gazed into the distance. The air was warm and humid with the peculiar scent of an approaching storm. Yesterday’s squall had not been enough to satisfy the heavens. The sky had been pregnant with grey clouds all day, and it was beginning to drizzle. Soon enough, the soil would be drenched, rainwater running off the hillsides and draining into already flooded rivers.

Alcamoth floated just before her eyes, white spires glorious even under the gloomy sky, concealing the horrors that lay within. Only the pink-and-purple slit surrounded by dark miasma bore witness to them.

Her jaw tensed. “I cannot.”

She felt the empress stiffen behind her, and before the woman could demand why, she retorted, “One hidden in the darkness cannot so easily walk in the light.”

“How can you call yourself so?” Melia was infuriated.

Tyrea remained unmoved. “It is an undeniable fact. The Bionite Order – it endured unknown for centuries, lingering in the shadows of Alcamoth’s radiance. And I, its assassin and right hand, was its umbra.”

The half-High Entia exhaled sharply and moved to stand beside her. “Perhaps that was the case, but no longer.”

She whipped her head around to affix Melia with a stare. “You cannot simply forget all that we have done – all that I have done! My past… the path I walked… they will not cease to burden my soul, although I do not regret them.”

“You are mistaken, Tyrea.” Creases furrowed into the quarter-Homs’ forehead; blue eyes narrowed. The last Antiqua stood, returning her glare with determination. “I have not forgotten. I have not the strength. Perhaps someday… but not now.”

“Then…”

“I long for a bright future. For all races, Nopon, Homs, and High Entia alike; that, together, we may flourish. I know you desire the same.” Tyrea suppressed a sudden intake of breath as she continued. “You must stand at my side and behold this future with your own eyes.”

Tyrea gritted her teeth for the second time that conversation. “I told you I cannot!”

Now it was Melia’s turn to clench her fists. “It irks me immensely. That you are so decided on this course. You _cannot_. When will you realise? When will your eyes be opened to the truth: you _can_! No matter your past, no matter your deeds – within all of us lies the capacity to change!”

Shocked, the former assassin was speechless, allowing her empress to speak further. “A day or so before we found you collapsed at the entrance to Colony 6, we had fled Mechonis.” Her voice had calmed considerably. “We discovered many things: the origins of the two titans, the Machina whose thirst for vengeance sparked that age-old war. Hostility that lasted for millennia. And yet… despite all we had lost, Shulk offered peace.”

Tyrea scoffed, prompting a smile from Melia. “I admit I had been highly sceptical that he would accept such a thing. But Egil saw the goodwill, the friendship that Shulk wished for. He spent his final moments protecting us, protecting the harmony that we fought for.” She turned, eyes on Alcamoth.

The part-Homs female blinked, shoulders dropping faintly. “When you put it like that… I suppose there is hope for me yet.”

Melia chuckled. “I certainly hope so. However, it will take time. This I know. Until then, will you not join us?” She extended a hand, a gesture of her entreaty.

She was still torn. Was it truly acceptable for her to step out into the sunlight, to allow its rays to illumine her way? As if sensing her reservations, Melia looked at her with a gentleness she had never been bestowed with.

“It is all right for you to walk in the dusk until you are ready. After all, every empress casts a shadow.”

“Hmph,” grunted Tyrea. “Very well.” She grasped that hand which had always been outstretched to her.


	16. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorrow, absolution, and reparation.

How long had it been since his blunder?

Oh, it had been far more grievous than a blunder; far worse than a mistake. Consumed in his hubris, he had judged himself worthy of divinity. He had subjected the whole universe to his experiment, deeming it incapable of failure. Deeming _himself_ incapable of failure. He had grown surer of it when the other humans descended into ‘contemptible things’, as he had seen them. The Saviorite rebels, all those factions vying for the Conduit’s might – only he deserved to be privy to its secrets.

Now, thanks to his verdict, he was isolated. He had done something infinitely baser than any other: he had singlehandedly wiped all life from the face of the earth. Dead or lost irrevocably in some dimension, he knew not. Perhaps their souls wandered, cursing him with every fibre of their being.

And his half had not learned his lesson; rather, he was absorbed in the depths of his arrogance, asserting his dominion over his creations. He had relinquished his human name and the memory of his fragile mortality. He had forgotten his purpose to make the world a better place.

But then again, he was not much better – this part of him trapped on the remains of Earth. Drifting, forever abandoned in the ruins of humanity. In the very place he had doomed them. Doomed Galea.

Dearest Galea. A person far nobler than himself. It was she who deserved to live.

The Conduit glowed despite the aeons that had passed, though it was silent. He had glared at it, wanting to pin the blame solely on it. Because it was, all the powers on Earth had done battle. Because it was, swathes of land would never again bear life. Because it was, entire nations had been annihilated. Because it was, life did not.

No; that was false. It had been the sins of humanity. And, most of all, his own.

When he had realised the extent of his atrocious deed, he had fallen to his knees. He had never been a religious man, but at that moment he had begged for God’s forgiveness. He did not know if he had ever received it.

Especially because he could not forgive himself.

As… atonement, of sorts (for nothing could ever dispense him of the punishment, purge him of his guilt), he created life. Perhaps that was another sin – another instance of his presumption. Assuming the task of God. But he had been alone for longer than he had dared to count; he longed to fill the earth again with riches and _people_. It was the only way he could think of to make amends. Even if it would never be enough.

Removing himself from the world could not be an option. That would leave it truly empty of life. Those beings in the city below… could no longer be considered alive.

Millennia passed again; only, this time, he kept a rough estimate. Those basic lifeforms grew and evolved and received sentience on the bed far above the ocean, far above the wastes of humanity. They began to call him Father, the Architect: titles he had never merited, titles that perhaps belonged to another being.

“Klaus!”

It had been so long since someone called him by his name.

For the first time since before he had destroyed the world, he felt something that could have been peace.


	17. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First: chatty and curious. Second: content to sit in companionable silence.

Perhaps he was dreaming.

He stood on a hill beneath a tall tree, its trunk sturdy, its boughs broad, its foliage thick. Grass carpeted the ground and tiny flowers poked up here and there, fine petals caressed by the gentle breeze. A lake glistened under the bright sunlight just in front of a quaint town. Its houses were spread apart with plenty of greenery between and a wide road of rock weaving to and fro for as far as the eye could see. The heavens were clear, small clouds speckling the horizon.

And yet, something was not right. The weather was perfect, unnaturally so. Save for the whispering zephyr, the trees were silent and still; the trill of birdsong failed to reach his expectant ears. No fish swam beneath the resplendent waters. Despite the sun that hung close to its zenith, the hustle and bustle of the settlement were not present; he raised his guard. A bell tolled in the distance as if heralding the absence of life.

He supposed that he _was_ dreaming, after all. Some High Entia scientists had written theses of dream processes as of late – products of the brain’s experiences, as he had gathered from his skims. However, he had never glimpsed a similar sight; nor had he ever imagined a landscape this remarkable. If he was dreaming, it was one with significance.

Surely it could not be a vision? But no; he hadn’t had one of those since the new world had been created. Hadn’t seen one since he had last talked with Alvis.

“How interesting. I did not expect to find you here.”

Shulk turned, the familiar silver hair and silver eyes filling him with relief and more questions than he could express.

“What is this place?” was the first.

Alvis moved to look on the quiet beauty of the suburb, the brilliant lake. “A memory of what was once Elysium.”

The blond tasted the word. It rolled on his tongue like honey. “This Elysium… doesn’t exist anymore.”

“No.”

The man started at his own reply. “Or… perhaps it stands. Far away in the world I called home; if it still exists.”

Slightly stunned at seeing Alvis backpedal, the Homs shifted to take in the scenery again. Nothing had changed at all; it was as though time itself had frozen.

“It’s beautiful,” he verbalised, neglecting to mention that it was, moreover, deserted.

His companion smiled and remained quiescent.

“Look,” began Shulk again, “I’ve been thinking…”

“An engineer such as yourself should always be so,” remarked Alvis.

Distracted momentarily, the nineteen-year-old barked a short laugh in surprise before returning to his intended topic. “There was a rift in Alcamoth not long ago. Between dimensions, I think. I’m not sure if you knew.”

The seer blinked leisurely. “This universe is yet unstable; time will mend its volatility,” he stated by way of explanation. “No encounters of that scale should befall you henceforth.”

“That’s a relief.” Breath whooshed out from twin lungs. He pressed his lips together, uncertain. “I’m glad to see you well. I wondered what became of you.”

“I have been here all this time,” articulated Alvis. “You have always been able and welcome to visit. Perchance you were not ready then.”

“Maybe,” Shulk acknowledged. He hesitated before speaking again. “Won’t you come – see what it’s like? Living among us mortals?”

The world’s administrator gave him a dry look. “I am but a machine.”

“I think you’ve proven yourself more than that.”

“Hm.”

Alvis inhaled the pure air, the sweet scent of fruit brought from the forest. “No matter my… heritage, let us say – I shall look forward to the future you create for yourselves. Take care you do not attempt to become your own god.”

“I will,” promised the blond with a nod. The other man peered at him until he seemed satisfied.

“One final favour, though,” Shulk requested. “Before I go.” Alvis tilted his head, awaiting it.

“Would you tell me about your world?”


	18. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jin explores the connections he's made.

Who could have imagined that a mere seventeen years was enough to change someone completely?

_Lora…_

That was inaccurate. From the moment he emerged from his Core Crystal, his life was transformed. When Jin laid eyes upon his Driver, a slip of a girl, afraid and ragged and endangered – and it was then that he knew he was to _protect_.

To safeguard, to accompany, and to lead. That look she gave him – he would never forget it. An expression that broke his heart and warmed it. Eyes that realised that the only safety she could find was with him.

It was a long time before those eyes found trust in another.

_Haze…_

Vibrant and loquacious, she and Lora got along like a house on fire. She and Jin were two sides of the same coin: one indelibly cheerful, the other quietly thoughtful. But they had complete faith in each other, knowing that they would do all they could for their precious one.

And now she was gone. Stolen by a man no one deserved as a Driver. By the man who had awakened Malos, who had saturated him with his hatred and misery. The one responsible for the Aegis War, free to do the same to Haze.

The World Tree filled his vision, dark green leafage surrounded by misty clouds, glowing green against the star-scattered night. If the Architect really existed, why would he allow such things to occur? Why did Lora die?

_Malos…_

How ironic it was, to be given a purpose by one’s former enemy. Jin was… grateful, perhaps. He’d spent years upon years wandering aimlessly, eschewing every place, every titan that reminded him of _her_. Not knowing how to move forward, adrift in times bygone, wishing for his own death but unwilling to surrender Lora’s memory.

Alrest proclaimed Amalthus a _hero_ , Fan la Norne the Blade of her _enemy_. The world forgot _Haze and Lora_. Tantalese claimed Addam’s ancestry when he knew that his legacy belonged to the Leftherians.

Then came the dark Aegis and, with him, a new role. No longer was he to _protect_ ; rather, he would _strike_. He would sever the false bonds, the ties of slavery, between Driver and Blade.

_Nia…_

As innocent as a Flesh Eater could be, at least. When he’d found her, she had looked ready to die. When she’d joined them, she had settled in somewhat, comfortable in the presence of people like her, where she did not have to hide her identity; but Jin had known she didn’t truly belong. Not as long as she remained ignorant of their true goals.

And, once she learned them, she left. Although he was disappointed that she had not understood the necessity of their actions, he admired that she did what she thought was right. Even though she did not confide in them, he saw that she felt happier with them than she did in Torna.

When he discerned the depth of her devotion to Rex and their friendship, he felt… satisfied. That she had found her own Lora. When he perceived how the boy had listened to Mythra’s fears, had healed her soul and accepted her, allowing her to reach her full potential – he smiled, understanding that he had been right. Here was the _true connection_ he’d predicted five hundred years ago.

These attachments were real. Drivers and Blades could live in harmony. He didn't have to be _alone_.

It had been a long journey, but now he was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't also manage to cover Akhos, Patroka, and Mikhail :(


	19. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loss informs one’s reflections of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I’m so behind…

Accompanying that motley crew on their journey to defeat this Aegis encompassed some of the best few weeks of Mikhail’s life. Up until then, he had been alone, abandoned by his relatives and alone in the rubble of the village he’d been sold to. But from that moment Lora took him in – called him family, fed him and cared for him and spent many a sleepless night calming him from nightmares of fire and ash – he had been happy. Even though their time together was coloured by tragedy and apprehension, their affection was real.

He hadn’t realised for a long time, however. And, by then, it had been almost too late.

“What are you doing, you loser?”

Mikhail perked up. “Ah, Patroka!” He spread his arms and whirled around to greet her. “How’s your brother?”

“He’s not my brother!”

He laughed at the fierce scowl on her face.

“Ugh! He’s still sulking over that annoying Blade of his. Stupid Obrona. Good riddance, I say.” She crossed her arms huffily and turned away.

“Oh, come on, Patroka. She wasn’t _that_ bad,” he said in a feeble attempt to placate her.

“Yes, she was!” the black-haired woman snapped. “Going on about dumb scripts all day long, egging Akhos on with his obsession with plays – and that infuriating giggle of hers!”

Mikhail scratched his head. It was true that Obrona had been somewhat irritating. But…

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit callous?”

“No way!” she burst out.

“The legendary Aegis broke both Sever and Obrona’s Core Crystals,” he returned. “They’re never coming back. Imagine if that happened to Perdido.”

Patroka fell abruptly silent and glared daggers into the ground. She was, no doubt, hoping that Mythra was capable of telepathy so she could hurl countless obscenities at the blonde. He turned back to stare at all the glowing Core Crystals set in the walls, blue stars arrayed against the Marsanes’ sombre backdrop.

This was what he was struggling for. Freedom from oppressive Drivers forcing Blades to fight their wars, from Indol and _Amalthus_. Freedom from that man’s sadistic experiments, flippantly disposing of his victims once he deemed them useless.

If they succeeded, they could change the world. Mikhail was certain of it. Without the praetor pulling the strings and sucking strength from Core Crystals, power could be wrested from Indol. The technology for creating Flesh Eaters and Blade Eaters might be destroyed if they played their hands well.

He rubbed his face in melancholy. He missed those simple days travelling with Lora and Jin and Addam and everyone. (He definitely didn’t miss Mythra’s cuisine.) Cloudless nights spent next to the campfire, swapping stories to the intoxicating scent and mesmerising sizzle of Aegaeon’s cooking. He had been so young then, but the memories were fresh as the day he made them.

A boy arose in his mind’s eye: furry ears poking out of permanently mussed hair, cheerful green eyes that solicited his friendship – one that Mikhail was only too happy to give. Those last few moments where Milton held him tight, chin buried in his trembling shoulder as purple light engulfed them…

He had to fight so that such devastation could never again be wrought.


	20. Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vessel in which to dwell for the next millennium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I’m obviously not going to finish all the prompts before the close of the month. You can thank RL commitments for that. But I fully intend to complete the collection before too long.

He floated in a vast space. Giant, jagged rocks moved past in an oddly organised line, curving slowly into the distance. Countless stars decorated the darkness but did nothing to warm his soul.

After all, he’d been dead since before he could remember.

_I find it intriguing that your spirit has persisted all these years._

He tucked his chin further into his body, arms wrapped around his legs, and said nothing.

 _How fitting it is,_ the voice continued. _That you, my chosen vessel, are the last remnant of the previous universe._

Shulk gritted his teeth. He willed the presence to go away.

_Such stubbornness. I am glad that I had decided to eradicate free will in my current creations. I do not need friendship; only worship befits me._

He finally broke. “You don’t deserve worship, least of all because you don’t understand that freedom is what allowed us to love. It was freedom that allowed the Machina to worship Meyneth.”

The being writhed, aching to punish him for his insolence, but Shulk was already numb. _How dare you talk about that pitiful excuse for a god?_ Zanza’s voice became steadily louder in his mind, causing him to wince. _She who had no comprehension of the rights of a god? Who sacrificed herself for her own creatures when they should have been glad to lay down their lives for her!_

“That is exactly why she asked for a world with no need for gods,” Shulk murmured. One of the last things he had been aware of before Zanza had taken over even his senses. He buried his face in his legs.

 _And look where that got her. Her people gone, her existence forgotten, and I as the god ruling over the world,_ he gloated, somewhat appeased. _It seems Galea learned nothing, after all. A fool until the end._

The blond raised his head slightly. “Ga…lea?”

There was silence. Shulk sensed that his possessor was weighing decisions.

 _She was once mortal, like you,_ Zanza replied at last. Shulk scrambled to his feet in shock.

“What?”

He could feel the god rolling his ( _his!_ ) eyes. _I will not repeat myself. Her name was Galea before she became Meyneth. A weak human who did not perceive the magnificence of my designs._

“Then… you were, too?”

A sudden pressure wracked his head. _Do not presume to know me. I am perfection itself. I deigned to share with you a little of Galea’s past, as thanks for this body of yours, but you have no right to mine._

The force disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Shulk sank to his knees again. His enemy was gone, fed up for the time being, but he would return to exult in himself soon enough. How often, he did not know – he had no ability to count the centuries beyond the precious little he gleaned from Zanza.

Despite his desire to kick the god out of his body, Shulk had no means of doing so. And… he was tired. Homs were never meant to live this long.

He missed them. Dunban’s prudence, steadying his impulses; Reyn’s enthusiasm in driving them; Riki’s vivacity keeping the party cheerful; Sharla’s perseverance never allowing anyone to fall in battle; Melia’s straightforward honesty piercing through the most difficult questions. Fiora’s courage as she fought to the end in order to bring peace to the peoples of both Bionis and Mechonis. He passed most of his time reliving those memories: the best months of his ‘life’. There was not much else to do, trapped in the immeasurable nothingness of… whatever this place was.

Shulk never did manage to figure out the mystery that was Alvis. Not that it mattered now.

Now, he waited only for oblivion.


	21. Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re called Blades for a reason.

**guilt/** _the Aegis sank three continents to the Cloud Sea’s bed._

That was… inaccurate. (Ignoring the fact that the passage of five hundred years was bound to twist the truth–)

Malos had destroyed many a people. She, only one.

… One too many.

In that moment of weakness, she had become like Malos. Untold destruction, countless lives lost.

Until then, she had prided herself on the strength she had, near limitless. Until then, she had found Addam’s pestering unnecessary. Gifted with more power than any other Blade could dream of possessing – why, she could ruin the world if she wanted to.

She didn’t, though. If she could use this to protect instead…

Pyra had missed so many things while she been sealed away in Addam’s ship.

Perhaps she should not have gone to sleep. Maybe she should have remained with Lora; maybe she could have saved her and Jin and Haze and Mikhail and the rest of the Tornan refugees on Spessia, even with her restrained power.

If only she’d been stronger. Strong enough to stay awake, bearing the blame for her sin.

* * *

**pride/** _the most powerful Blade in existence!_

Yes, Mythra was a weapon. She admitted it freely. It was pointless to deny. Someone who had sunk Torna, had fought toe to toe and ultimately defeated the one who had wrecked Coeia, could not but be one. Because of that, they’d bothered her about being responsible for her status as an Aegis. Addam, Jin, and Brighid had all treated her like a little kid who should know better. A Blade who should keep her skill in check.

But she wanted to be more than that.

She wanted to have fun. She wanted to see Addam’s child, eyes surely as golden as his own; she wanted to fangirl over beauty products with Brighid; to sit by the fire with Mikhail; to help Jin to prepare meals. She wished to learn how to defend against Haze’s incredible ability; to watch Hugo’s tinkering and Aegaeon’s joy upon being given one of Lora’s talismans, and talk with Minoth about Blades and Drivers and all manner of useless things.

Now she did know better. Too bad she’d realised too late. Too late for Torna. Too late for Milton.

* * *

**gratitude/** _I am lost… no longer._

The shame would never disappear, mayhap. Maybe her pride would rear its ugly head again, and she would lash out at the people who cared for her. But it would be all right.

Because they would never leave her alone, as she had dreaded.

This immense power tingling in her extremities, coursing through her veins – none of it meant anything to Rex. His golden eyes (deeper than Addam’s) pierced her with an innocence she desired. Knowing that she could easily turn that aptitude against him, shatter the Titan they stood on, he chose to look beyond that, to who she was, and loved her despite that.

No, not _in spite of_ it. He accepted all of her. He lingered over her wounds as no one before him ever had, and pressed his hand over them — and oh, how they had hurt, how they had begged to be left alone to nurse her gaping emptiness — but it was in that vulnerability that she had been healed. 

She would be forever thankful for these wonderful friends Father had placed in her life. Even those of whom she had more sad memories than good, because they had all helped her find her way.

Jin had been right. The vision she had had five hundred years ago – which she had not understood back then – was right. Pneuma had found her happiness.


	22. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burdened no longer.

It was of no use. They just kept coming. Endless swarms of human-shaped shadows would overwhelm them soon enough. Nia panted as she fended off another clone, its Stygian edge clanging upon contact with Dromarch’s twin rings, as if it was made of metal itself, and all too real.

They were all being separated from each other. She had noticed a minute or so ago; however, she had no luck in creating a reprieve to gather everyone together again. She trusted in her friends’ abilities with her life (yet did she trust them with her secrets?), but this battle had been going on for some time with no end in sight. And the Blades were being siphoned of their energy far too quickly.

Herself included.

Light filtered down from some unknowable place – seriously, how was it so bright this deep into the Leftherian Titan? – and illuminating the wall design. Addam’s crest, mark of his legacy. Miraculously, ivy had not crept over the stone and mould had not overtaken its crevices over the centuries.

Here they were, seeking Pyra and Mythra’s true power; and here she was, terrified of tapping into hers.

In a way, she supposed she was like the Aegis girls. Fearing that their trust would morph into rage once they saw who she was, what she was. What she had done. Dreams filled with wrath woke Nia most nights. They had risen in their frequency of late, as her remorse grew and grew and engulfed her and consumed her in her arrogance–

“My lady!”

Jolted out of her reverie, she ducked just as a sword made of darkness sliced the air where her neck had just been. Nia swiped at its torso and it leapt back, allowing a second shadow to dart to her side. She twisted to meet it, trying not to let the first one out of sight and confident that Dromarch would keep others off her back.

“What kind of… sick test… is this Addam playing at!” she complained with what little breath she had. No one replied, concerned with using theirs for more practical purposes.

A particularly strong swing sent her flying back; her slide was stopped by her Blade’s firm body. “Nia!” Rex cried, dashing in to intercept the phantasm. Dear Rex, who had such faith in her. She would have given up her secret long ago for him. Hoping that one day she would have the strength to protect him, to tell him. To face her failures – to beg their forgiveness. Vandham and Fan la Norne…

He too was overcome by the shadows’ numbers, and she screamed as he collapsed.

Light enveloped her body. She refused to run any longer. She hadn’t needed to since she had met Rex and Tora and Zeke and Mòrag, but panic had oppressed her time and time again. Afraid of rejection, she had hidden despite that tiny voice telling her that everything would be okay.

So, as Nia took on the form the Architect had given her, she swore to protect what she had. She wouldn’t lose anyone anymore.

“I love you, Rex.”

It didn’t matter if he didn’t return her feelings. Well, all right; it kind of did. But she would not be bitter about it – his big heart would accept anyone and everyone, would shoulder all their burdens, and that was why she loved him tenderly.

_In the silence of the starry night, Rex told her._

_“I love you most of all.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I consider this to be the only chapter thus far that is non-canon compliant. (But only those last two lines.)


	23. Unfinished Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations and revelations. Will the battle ever be finished?

Shulk was alone with his thoughts.

This was a common occurrence, though he admitted that it had been getting rarer since he’d begun his journey. Now they were all following Dickson on their way to Satorl Marsh. The silence was a far cry from an hour ago, a scene charged with tension and hatred and promises of vengeance.

His hand tightened around the Monado. He would destroy them all.

Yet that begged the question: why were the faced Mechon invulnerable to the Monado? This fabled weapon that had cut through others like butter – why did it bounce off them?

Someone shuffled up next to him, interrupting Shulk’s reverie.

“Dunban!” He blinked in surprise.

“Still getting lost in your thoughts, I see,” the man teased.

“No – uh, yes…” Shulk floundered. He gestured to the hero. “How’s your arm? I noticed you swapped your sword over, but is it functional outside of battle?”

Dunban smiled ruefully. “My fine motor control is atrocious, I’m afraid. But I’ve recovered enough to accompany you.” His face darkened, clearly considering the purpose of their travels.

Shulk turned to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. It truly was a relief that Dunban had joined them on their quest. His experience and wisdom were invaluable to their youth; his maturity would do well to hold Reyn back when he was being particularly impulsive. And himself, when needed.

“We’ll do it,” he assured the brunet. “For Fiora. And Gadolt. For all the friends we’ve lost, and all the people we might have met if it weren’t for the Mechon.”

He felt Dunban nod beside him.

“Next time, Metal Face is finished.”

* * *

Metal Face was not finished.

Shulk didn’t know what to do anymore. They had managed to remove the Monado’s limiter, enabling him to pierce through faced Mechon like all others. He had taken a huge swing at Metal Face, intent on finally ending him, and the silver faced Mechon had gotten in the way.

_Fiora had gotten in the way._

Okay, so she didn’t remember him. Not Reyn, nor Dunban. She hadn’t batted an eyelash. Her voice had been so different: it was pitched lower, graver, and her accent was unrecognisable. Nevertheless, it was definitely her. Shulk couldn’t mistake that shade of hair (its pale lustre under the sunlight), that texture, even short as it was; it was impossible to be uncertain when he stared into those green eyes, deeper than the sea.

The blond shook himself. Thus, knowing that inside faced Mechon sat Homs… what was he supposed to do?

He glanced at Melia, gazing out on the ivory white of Alcamoth’s towers, her people tiny as ants far below. Sorrow in her eyes and a lingering question.

Sharla nudged him. “What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

He swallowed. Took a deep breath. “She’s alive… I came all this way to get revenge for her, and she’s alive.”

“That girl… Fiora, was it?”

“Yeah.”

She shifted almost imperceptibly; his eyes followed the movement. “Well, before you go figuring out what it is you want to do, first you have to get her back.”

Shulk grinned. “First things first.”

“Yep,” the dark-haired woman agreed. “And… maybe find out if there are other Homs who survived in those machines.”

He understood.

Shulk owed it to everyone to find the answers.


	24. Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Special Inquisitor and her brother.

Mòrag stood outside the room for some time. She had approached perhaps five or ten minutes ago but could not bring herself to knock.

She still couldn’t believe it.

Not three hours ago she had held her emperor’s weakening body, his small hand in hers. Those kind blue eyes dimming as he left her. Aegaeon dissolving into ether light, retreating to a dark Core Crystal that clattered dully on the cold stone draining their warmth. Niall’s smile, so regretful, so grateful that she was there. Her own heart breaking, the object of her dedication disappearing, her shining gold medals useless and undeserved. The hollow glory of an empire that could not safeguard its own ruler. Her brother.

She gasped for breath, hand white against the wall for support. There were no tears. Those had been expended earlier when she thought him gone; the remainder were stored behind her eyes, hidden from all.

“Sister?”

She straightened abruptly, body falling into that ever-so-familiar stance. Arms straight at her sides, legs still as her beating heart betrayed feelings she tried to bury. The picture of Special Inquisitor Mòrag Ladair, the Flamebringer. Sword of Mor Ardain. Formidable and untouchable.

Niall’s eyes softened more if that was possible. “Come in,” he invited, turning to fumble with the doorknob.

“I was under the impression that you were to stay in your room until the doctor pronounced you fit.” He winced slightly at the unspoken reprimand. Opening the door, he waited as she walked in and closed it.

“My duties never cease, nor abate, as you well know,” he said by way of excuse, ignoring her reproachful look. “I find myself well enough and bored enough to attend to such.”

“Would that you could simply forego them altogether.”

Niall stared at his cousin’s murmuring. “If, perchance, I lay down this yoke, who would take it up in my place?” He met her brown eyes, full of concealed concern. “And so, I do what I must. What I desire is your happiness and for you to find your purpose.”

She creased her brow and countered, “My place is at your side.” He shook his head.

“I think not.”

She was startled at his swift dissent. He continued hurriedly, “You see something in them, do you not? The spark of hope for humanity. In that boy, Rex. It is something you have never seen in Mor Ardain, I wager. It is something you wish was in me.”

Mòrag was speechless. Yes, she wanted more for him, even if it meant her sitting on that throne, wearing that gold crown. But… was that really what she thought when she looked at the Aegis’ Driver?

He saw her expression and smiled softly. “I see you that you have not come to that realisation yet. Very well. Travel with the Aegis and her party. I hope for you to understand them.”

“But you require protection,” she tried to protect, images of his blood yet vivid in her mind.

“I have many guards with me,” Niall told her gently, “and I trust that they are very capable since you handpicked them. This is about more than Mor Ardain – this involves all of Alrest.”

She pursed her lips, knowing what he said to be true but not liking it. She turned on her heel, making to exit. “I urge you to take care of yourself, my… Emperor.”

Behind her, Niall grinned. She could not be honest with herself yet. But he had every confidence that she could be. That she would be, with time spent in their company.

“I will, dear sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mòrag hasn’t had that H2H with Mythra and Pyra at the Cliffs of Morytha yet, so she doesn’t know how to get at that familial bond.  
> I wrote this last week but forgot to post…


	25. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being forgotten is worse than death.

It started just like any other day.

They strolled together in the woods, drinking in the lush greenery, fresher than any shrub back home.

“Air’s not as crisp,” Zeke commented.

“Of course not,” Pandoria shot back with a smirk. “Genbu is like, the coldest place in the world. Except maybe the bottom of the Cloud Sea.”

“I like it,” he declared. He stomped on the grass, softened by recent rain. “The Zekenator pronounces Gormott one of the best locales in Alrest!”

His Blade giggled. “It helps that the Gormotti are so friendly! And their ears are so cute.”

She sighed dreamily. “Imagine if we could live here…”

He sent what he hoped was an austere expression (it was not). “While this Titan may boast some nice views, Pandy, you know that it’s too quiet for the brilliant Thunderbolt Zeke! And the villagers of Cordell don’t appreciate my incredible prowess.” He pouted.

Pandoria’s tail swished, the light bulb on its end sparking in contentment. Her mouth opened to shut down her prince’s penchant for dramatic flair, but a sudden impact cut her off.

She looked down, half in shock at the glowing megalance embedded deep in the side of her knee. It had been thrown at high velocity and had almost gone straight through. Eyes fixed on its sleek black shaft as her legs gave out. She grasped it and pulled – it would heal over and she needed to back her Driver up as soon as possible.

Pain filled her vision with black spots. The lightning Blade knew she was gasping for oxygen but couldn’t do a thing about it. She might have been screaming but cotton was stuffed in her ears. She knew Zeke was. His panicked face darted to her frequently as he fended off their attackers.

Water splashed over their shoes and was quickly frozen over by a second Blade. Pandoria would have marvelled over their teamwork if she wasn’t so delirious. The wound was closing over far too slowly. Princey was the most powerful Driver of Tantal, yes, but she was incapacitated and could not concentrate enough to pump ether throw their affinity link. He was one man against two Drivers and their Blades.

There! It was almost done; she was finally ready to support her partner. She stumbled to her feet, still a little unsteady, but she’d deal – and her head shot up to see a blue chroma katana in her prince’s chest.

Her pupils widened, vision narrowed, and the air electrified as she yelled his name. Voltage danced through the residual water, ionised when it mixed with minerals in the soil. Strong currents jumped and climbed up the Drivers, shocking them so quickly their Blades were helpless. Their hearts stopped as they were thrown back and were dead before the hit the ground again. Lifeless Core Crystals hit the earth with a muffled thump.

Pandoria leapt to her Driver's side. Blood. There was too much blood. Crimson flowed out with no hope of respite, and he was rapidly turning grey and pale and she wasn’t going to lose him!

She was not a healer but she poured as much ether as she dared into him. Scooping him up was as hard as she anticipated – all those muscles made for a heavy crown prince – but she had to do it quickly, and did. Those bandits surely had not been alone.

So, unable to do much else, she hobbled in the growing darkness in search of civilisation. Her Driver was a dead weight on her shoulder as she limped on through the night.

It was well into the morning when at last Pandoria collapsed. It was then that she beheld the countenance of a man who scared her more than the face of a dying Zeke. Those yellow eyes which sharpened as he gazed upon her.

She didn’t want to be his Blade.

She didn’t want to be any Blade but Zeke’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, they don’t name the Titan this takes place on. I believe that Spessia is the third Titan that sunk ‘during the Aegis War’ (i.e. Amalthus sank it and blamed it on the Aegises), so I went with Gormott. I would have preferred Leftheria because it’s closer to Indol, but there’s too much sand to pass that scene off as the archipelago.  
> Also, I keep forgetting to post my written chapters :(


	26. Armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The different types of armour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is that my last exam is tomorrow, and then I’m free!

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can’t just rely on Shulk to swoop in and save the day all the time!”

“I’m not! Have you seen these babies? Shulk ain’t got nothing on these.”

“Oh, please,” a posh voice interrupted, “let’s not talk about such inane topics.”

“Thank you, Melia!” said the only other woman in their merry band. “Unfortunately, there’s too much testosterone around.”

The silver-haired woman nodded in heartfelt acknowledgement while Reyn and Dunban shared a look of uncertainty. Riki was too busy bouncing along the overgrown trail to Valak Mountain, enjoying his last couple of hours in the tropical environment in which he had been born and raised.

As for Shulk, he was more than ten metres ahead of the rest of the group. He had been pushing them along at a breakneck pace; it had taken Sharla and Dunban ganging up on him to convince him to let up. Even now, he was still driving them as hard as he dared, his blond head bowed.

“He’ll wear himself out at this rate,” Sharla observed quietly.

Dunban sighed. “He’s used to long hours and all-nighters back in Colony 9, studying the Monado and tinkering with scrap parts and weaponry, so he has high resilience… but yes, I fear you’re right.”

The medic peered at Dunban, considered his words. “Are you… Was he close to your sister?”

“Very,” he confirmed immediately, lips upturned slightly, “although neither was forward enough to admit it.”

Sharla’s eyes strayed to the High Entia in their company.

“I know what you’re thinking,” supplied Dunban gently.

“You don’t think it could happen?” asked the black-haired woman, almost sharply.

His gaze fluttered to the great trees surrounding them, their dark trunks boasting centuries of life. At the birds playing overhead, their chimes ringing in his ears, and pondered how to put his vague thoughts into words.

“Maybe once,” he answered finally. “But now that we know Fiora’s alive, he won’t give her up again.”

Sharla’s expression shuttered. “Hope’s a funny thing like that. Just when you think someone’s gone, they pop up again to prove you wrong.”

The dark-eyed man smiled at her. “Are you hoping for that to happen with you?”

She gave a short laugh, somewhat embarrassed. “Well… yes.” She stared down, kicking at the dirt beneath her boots. “We found out that your sister pilots Silver Face. Maybe there are more Homs in other faced Mechon. You never retrieved her body; we never found Gadolt’s. I have to hope.”

Dunban grinned teasingly. “Don’t focus too much on what you’ve lost, but on what you have.”

She shot him a glance of mild amusement. “I know what you’re trying to say, sneaky hero. But shouldn’t you impart those oh-so-wise words to Shulk?”

He exhaled a breathy laugh. “True enough.”

The sniper pushed her lips out. “I’m amazed she survived that, though. From the way you guys were going on about your first showdown with Metal Face, it sounded like there was no way she could have.”

“Have funny thing called plot armour!” exclaimed Riki.

They stared at the Nopon – at his fluffy body, his tiny stature, his high-pitched voice, his mellow face – and were unable to take him seriously.

“Uh… What?”


	27. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He kept it.

Metal crumbled like castles of sand around them, buffeted by the gales behind. Meyneth’s arms, forever outstretched to her people, were no longer visible in the great light radiating from the core. It took everything they had to keep their footing, let alone run from the epicentre. A particularly strong quake swept the little Nopon off his feet; he rolled along the path until the kid named Reyn snatched him up.

They were fleeing yet nowhere was safe. The blast would encompass all of Agniratha. It was all over for them.

_But he couldn’t give up._

Sharla was there. He could see her lustrous locks swishing about as she searched for him frantically. Just as beautiful as the day he’d forced her to leave him behind. No; tempered by grief and resolve, she had become a woman whom he was prouder of than ever before.

He would defy fate itself if it meant saving her.

It didn’t matter if his strength was replenished upon becoming one again with the Mechon. It chilled Gadolt’s blood to feel it coursing through the machine’s circuits. He consoled himself with the knowledge that it would be for only a little while longer.

Below, the redhead had finally convinced his dear Sharla to escape, but the radiant discharge was catching up and far too quickly. Gadolt felt in his bones of metal the moment he synchronised with the unit and leapt from the ledge a split second before it broke off the structure.

This would be the only time he would consider thanking Egil for this new body. It was strong, swift, and responsive. Yet at the rate he was going, he wouldn’t reach the others in time.

_Faster. Faster!_

He had intended to grab the party and get as far away from the explosion as possible, but they would not be able to take hold of the Face to get out quickly enough. So, instead, he found himself standing before them.

Their expressions were frozen in abject horror, and his eased. He could buy them a few seconds.

Gadolt’s gaze rested on the boy at _her_ side. Not really a child, he supposed. He was tall and muscled, a defender to the last. He had seen the manner with which he had looked at Sharla: kind and innocent. He could not remain by her side, so… he supposed he could entrust her to him.

Memories played through his mind, bright and fleeting. Her smile. Her laugh. Otharon’s knowing smirk. The self-conscious way she played with her hair. Her lowered eyes, dark in the moonlight.

He studied her features for the last time. Her thick eyebrows creased in denial, her arm half-raised in desperation, fingers limp. Her chest heaved; her cheeks were pink from exertion and her red lips parted slightly. He fixed his eyes on her, intent on ending his days just so.

“I’ve fulfilled… my promise…”

Sharla gasped, and both hands flew to her mouth. He grunted in the same instant, the force shoving him to kneel.

Even if it had been a mere few minutes, Gadolt had returned to her. He was deeply regretful that he would not live to grow old with her…

But for her future, he would give up his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crabs. Sorry.
> 
> But! Merry Christmas!


	28. Desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts spiral out of control.

Once a truly great city, reduced to derelict granite. Long ago, humans ambled under the azure sky, the warmth of the bright sun bathing their faces. Now, creatures little more than beasts staggered through streets misted a pallid green. Wide roads made for countless cars en route to work and home and school made unusable, deserted. Broad trunks which used to shelter singing birds and laughing children were gone with the years – only dust remained.

The World Tree was built to reach the stars. The pinnacle of human achievement, symbol of scientific progress, image of mortal immortality. It was the new Tower of Babel; a structure populated by machinery, empty of organic life thanks to their (his) hubris.

There: a Titan, dead for aeons. Its decomposing body clung to the surface of the Cloud Sea, collapsing bits plummeting into the abyss. People had forsaken it many years ago. Most of the Blades born from her had become Titans themselves and, themselves produced Core Crystals to be awakened. However, the cycle had been interrupted; many of them were unable to return to their mothers. Temperantia and Mor Ardain were approaching the end of their lifespans, and only a few new Titans had been birthed from them.

Could he call it the foolishness of his species? That man… he had walked the earth for many centuries, far longer than any human had since the time of Noah’s sons. Yet even before him, people had stolen Core Crystals for themselves, passing them down to prevent their transformations.

And now, several Blades were retaliating, fighting for a freedom they should have always had. (Jin, Akhos, Patroka…) His dream had failed, had it not? His children, all of whom he had intended to stride towards the future in harmony, had turned on each other in conceit and selfishness. Even the first fruits of his labour had followed suit.

_Were mortals always going to be like this?_

Should he have brought them back? Perhaps he should not have created life, after all – not dared to trespass into the domain of God. To tread that divine path, he had paid for it with the blood of the cosmos.

They were repeating his sins. How would they answer for them?

Like father like son, they used to say. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they said. History repeats itself. Chips off the old block. Following in his footsteps, burnt into the sand in eternal glass.

He always thought that was silly. He used to consider himself nothing like his father. A good-for-nothing man whose only aspiration was himself. Who couldn’t even distinguish himself in the scientific community, his theories weak and conclusions drawn without logical progression. Who ended his days in a pool of liquor, alone and cast-off from the world.

He had vowed that he would never be like that. But he had proven himself to be just so. He had demonstrated to the universe his folly.

Left with desolation, he had no choice but to place his faith in those few beings fighting for hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Klaus. He always makes me insert overt Christian themes, which I don’t do unless the source does…
> 
> Have a happy New Year!


	29. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Nopon reflects on the facets of a bond.

Tora watched people go by in the marketplace. Furry ears flicked at the sound of unfamiliar footsteps and voices hailed tourists down, trumpeting their wares. As he watched, a man traded his carved flamii for a soft toy splashed with bright dyes. A girl by his side squealed with delight upon being presented with it and hugged it tightly. Her father watched on, a gentle smile curving his lip.

He would be much more interested in a perfect range sensor to further his project along the path of completion. He would have a companion then. At long last. But when he saw moving scenes like that…

He remembered the loneliness welling up inside him.

Memories of his grampypon showing him the ropes of the maidenly way. Memories of poring over blueprints with his dadapon. Fading recollections of his mamapon bending over his cradle.

“Hey there, little guy! You okay?”

Tora looked up, big eyes staring. A short-haired girl, prime for teaching, grinned at him. He froze up.

“Cutesy lady talking to me…”

“What’s that?”

A female voice groaned. “Let’s just go, Calaminag. What a waste of time.”

Blue gleamed at the centre of the woman’s chest, signalling her status as a Blade. The girl looked back at the black-haired beauty, giggling.

“Lighten up, Patroka! We just got here; let’s relax a little!”

“Sorry, Callie-sis,” said a male. He looked like a gangster with his mohawk! “We’ve a job to do before dark.”

Callie groused a bit before rising. “All right, all right! Such a fogy you are, sheesh…” She went after the two and waved goodbye to Tora. Another man followed, shaking his head slowly while adjusting his red glasses.

“Hurry up, Akhos!” roared the long-haired Blade.

“My, my. That was a rather predictable interaction with such a one-dimensional extra.”

“Shut your trap.”

Tora had missed out on an opportunity to make friends. But the yearning for fellowship such as theirs grew.

* * *

Having friends was a new thing for Tora.

Urayans were a rowdy bunch, eager to drink themselves under the table every night. Work hard, play hard. He liked the Gormotti for their strong sense of community. Indoline were sticks in the mud, though. And the few Tantalese he had met were kind of stuck up. Ardainians were super serious but he wouldn’t complain if one wanted to be his friend.

In fact, Tora wouldn’t complain if _anyone_ wanted to be his friend! Except for a baddie. Or someone who didn’t like maidy merchandise. _Especially_ those who didn’t appreciate the subtlety and efficacy of blushy-crushy!

“Tora, that’s creepy. Please be quiet.”

Oh, but… the ones he got, in the end, didn’t. Apart from Pyra. He was working on that. She had potential. He just needed to uproot the bad influence begotten by the others. At least Poppi had his back. She had taken the redhead under her wing, choosing to mentor her out of the goodness of her immaculate heart.

Poppi, his oldest friend. He had worked on her so intensely. Innumerable nights spent by her model studying her functionalities, improving her personality modes, attempting to reproduce Lila’s ether furnace. Tora knew her so well, even better than he knew himself. He knew every inch of her circuitry, every program.

“Seriously, Tora, you need to stop.”

And it was Rex-Rex himself who came along to aid him in completing her! His very first Driver friend! He had been so excited to learn from him the secrets of being a good partner! Oh, but Rex-Rex had only had a Blade for about as long as he had, so in terms of experience, there wasn’t much difference…

But he was a real friend! And one who didn’t turn away in disgust as some others did. And he was determined and kind, and courageous, and all these qualities were necessary to be a splendid Driver!

It was thanks to Rex-Rex that Tora was able to begin his journey as a Driver. Thanks to that, he made even more friends and met so many new people. Thanks to him, he was able to learn the nature of a Driver and Blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We aren’t told when Akhos and Patroka became Flesh Eaters but, for the sake of this one-shot, it’s a few years before XC2 starts. Went with Gaelic names because the Drivers look sort of Ardainian (and I really love Gaelic names).


	30. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day like any other, except for welcoming a friend after six months.

It was a busy day in New Colony 9. Carts of brick were pushed to construction sites and were returned empty with increasing swiftness as labourers sought to unwind at home. Women bargained under a forceful sun, yet the heavy air compelled many to glance upwards often, checking furtively for tell-tale rainclouds signalling the end of another bountiful season. Shrieking children clogged the streets, heedless of the pointed scent of a looming storm.

Reyn perceived none of this. He was occupied with moving metal frame after metal frame at Sharla’s behest. _“Should be easy for you, ya big lug,”_ she’d said, _“so go make yourself useful instead of beating up the poor weaklings on the outskirts of town.”_

 _“Flamii lay real tasty eggs,”_ he’d protested in turn, _“and ardun beef would be spot on for tonight’s feast!”_

Her dark hair had gleamed in the sunlight as she had shaken her head, shoulders quivering with mirth. _“You just leave that to Miller. He’s a capable guy – he can handle small fry.”_

“Well, aren’t _you_ an infatuated one.”

His head darted up; his body froze, caught between depositing a ladder and lifting the next pole for the scaffold. He relaxed in the next moment and sulked.

“Don’cha have better things to do than tease me? Like having a chin-wag with old man Otharon. He and Vanea were looking for you earlier. Something about… an infer-measure… or something?” He squinted in confusion.

Dunban corrected with a smile, “Interferometer.”

“Inter-what _ever_ ,” Reyn muttered sourly. The older man laughed.

“All right. I’ll sally away and quit _teasing_ you, as you say."

He shuffled off, followed by Reyn’s half-hearted glare. The teenager went back to work, quickly forgetting that minor chat. Sweat dripped into his left eye and he winced with the affected orbit.

“Gonna take a short break till my eye stops stinging, mate,” he called out to Andreas. “Sorry ‘bout this.” The dark-haired man grimaced in sympathy. He stood and surveyed the scene.

“Y’know what, we’re pretty much done for the day. Why don’t you head home and I’ll finish up?”

“No way,” Reyn objected. “I ain’t gonna let you work an extra two hours when we can get it done in one.”

Andreas gave him a knowing look. “Fiora’s out today, isn’t she? Shulk’s been out of it all week. I’d have to be blind to miss _that_.”

The bulky boy faltered. “Well… yeah…”

He made a shooing motion. “Then it’s all good, man. Go give her the party she deserves.”

Reyn sighed. “Yeah, okay. But!” He marched up to Andreas and poked him in the chest, much to the guy’s befuddlement. “You go home, too. _Now_.”

Andreas stared up in shock. “I said–”

“Don’t care,” he interrupted. (Sharla would give him a hiding for being so rude if she was there.) “Monica’s waiting for you.”

The man let out a breathy laugh, successfully coerced. “Fine, let’s head.”

* * *

Walking along the cobblestoned thoroughfare at that time of day was both a struggle and a pleasure. The sun dipped low in the sky, tinging clouds fat with condensation a red-orange and throwing indigo and mauve across the glossy sea. Greenery rested on their beds of soil; buds were half-closed in response to the dying light. Merchant cries shifted slowly from advertising inorganic inventions to naming dishes, accompanied by potent scents and a familiar sizzling. Couples strolled along with varying degrees of outward affection. A woman stood at the dock, shadowed and silent, gazing across the ocean. Children disappeared into houses upon being called by their parents while lampposts lit up the city with brilliant ether. One in particular illuminated her figure partially, revealing the short wings of a half-High Entia.

“What’s caught your eye?” he asked. She turned; her blue eyes were dark in the dusk.

“Reyn.”

He scratched his head, thrown off. “Ye-es…?” Oh, she was in one of _those_ moods again. He typically didn’t know how to navigate when she was like this. Melia stared upwards. He noticed that her habitually immaculate locks were beginning to frizz in the humid air, but did not remark.

“Do you think Alcamoth is still out there?” The rise in her tone a smidge more than natural betrayed her agitation.

Reyn took a moment to offer a prayer (yes, he knew there were no gods any longer, but it was ingrained after some eighteen years!) before he clapped her shoulder. Granted, he did do it as softly as he could, but she still jumped. “Ah. Sorry. But… yeah, I think it is.”

The silver-haired woman affixed him with a look. “You are simply saying that to ease my mind.”

“No, no!” He flailed his arms in reply, narrowly missing her jaw. “I mean… obviously I want to make you feel better… But, but – hey wait!” She had huffed and begun to move away, so he’d lunged out and caught her by the elbow. “I really _do_ think it’s out there somewhere. It was more or less deserted after… after what happened, but remember Kaleka and guys wanted to repopulate! I’m convinced that Alvis would have done something about them. Least, that’s what Shulk says, and I trust him.”

Melia’s resistance slackened, and so did his grip. “You raise a fair point. Still, I cannot help but wonder.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he answered, and then realised. He backtracked. “O-oh, I mean, it’s fine to be worried! Just… don’t… ah… uhh…” _‘Tried to’_ was the key phrase.

She laughed. “Very well. Thank you, Reyn.”

He grinned and almost sagged in desperate relief. “Don’t mention it.”

“Reyn! Reyn, Reyn, Reyn, Reyn, _Reyn_ , _Reyn_ , _Reyn,_ Reeeeeyyyy–”

The redhead slapped the petite, impossibly noisy Nopon across the wharf with a thump. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the satisfying _smack_ of skin on skin, but Reyn would take what he could get. Riki bounced off the wood and would have plunged straight into the rippling waves were it not for a wing shooting out to cling to whatever it could reach.

“Looky look!” he cried as he hauled himself to safety. “Riki catch huge fish! Bet Reyn only catch teeny ones, not enough for even a littlepon!” He puffed up his miniature chest, flaunting said marine animal. It thrashed in his wing for lack of oxygen.

Reyn was still trying to recover his sanity from ten seconds ago, so Melia stepped in for him. “That is a sizeable angel bream, Riki. You are to be commended.”

He threw her a glance that was more pained than grateful; she inclined her head nonetheless, knowing his thoughts.

“Yes, yes! Fiora have yummy fish to eat tonight!”

The Homs finally found his voice. “We’d better get going to she has enough time to prepare it and make it delish, then.”

Riki sped off at that, paused, and stared back at them. “So slow, you two! If not hurry, all num-nums eaten before you come!”

At Reyn’s side, the woman smiled with crinkling eyes and walked marginally faster. He marvelled quietly. Sure, since Zanza’s defeat, her demeanour had been generally more cheerful and light. But he knew that she would smile even more easily once she knew of Alcamoth’s fate.

It was in such a fashion that they reached a two-storey house just inside the town’s boundaries. Smoke spiralled lazily from its chimney, carrying with it the aroma of herbs hidden in charcoaled bunnit. Dunban leaned against the outside wall and pushed himself upright at their approach.

“There you are. The others are already inside.”

“Well, of course,” Reyn declared. “Shulk’s been stuck to Fiora since she got out, and we all know she’s the one cooking for tonight.”

Dunban stifled a smirk.

“Actually,” he contributed, “Sharla volunteered to help, so she’s getting lessons.”

“ _Really?_ ” Reyn probed, attempting to hide his excitement. If Sharla could cook even half as well as Fiora one day… Well, he would be a truly happy–

“Come inside,” the other man invited, mercifully interrupting his inner train. “It’s getting chilly out.”

The interior was a welcome change: bright, warm, and clamorous. Shulk sat at the table poring over papers, as usual. Reyn pinched the bridge of his nose – a common reaction by now, thanks to the blond – and marched over. “C’mon, Shulk! Tonight’s for festivities!” He didn’t dare snatch the documents for fear he was disrupting some unseen pattern.

Somewhat to his surprise, the engineer conceded without difficulty. He began to gather his things. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Great. Now we can finally set the table,” quipped a voice (one he was attuned to at this point).

Shulk flushed. “Ah, sorry. You know how I get…”

“Too right,” returned the medic mischievously.

“Uh, hey, Sharla.” Reyn raised a hand in an awkward greeting. Melia, meanwhile, pressed her lips together… Maybe she was annoyed at him for some reason? Maybe he had messed up when he’d been talking to her earlier. Maybe he should ask her later.

“Guys!” another female hollered. “Could use some help moving some stuff in here.”

Riki rushed off to the kitchen to hand off his now-dead fish. Reyn followed at a more sedate pace, hearing the half-Homs announce that she would stay to aid in the table setting. His best friend was scolded for floundering around uselessly and ordered to wait in upstairs with the equally ineffective Dunban.

“So,” Reyn started, reaching for the nuts in the highest cupboard at the head chef’s directive, “looks like you’ll get your happily ever after, huh?”

Fiora tilted her head. “What do you mean?” She was waiting for her pan to reach appropriate temperatures for dry roasting.

“Don’t play dumb,” he told her as he handed the bowl over. “I’ve grown up with the both of you.”

She grinned at that and scratched the side of her nose. “Heh, guess you got me. Shulk’s pretty dense, though.”

“If you ask me, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Reyn pointed out.

“I _didn’t_ ask…”

“Hey!” She poked her tongue out at him; he could only scowl in response. “No, seriously, it’s gonna happen. Just you wait. It’s only a matter of time, and that’s something you have now.”

Fiora turned back to her pan and dumped the nuts into it. “I hope so.”

“Dunban and I have been rooting for you from the start!”

“And I’ve been rooting for you and Sharla.” He froze like a ponio caught in ether light.

“Uh? Ah… Um, really looking forward to the feast tonight!”

“Very nice, Reyn. Way to dodge the topic.” The green-eyed girl rolled her eyes.

“Nah, honest! I’m starving.”

Fiora laughed boisterously. “I’ve been gone for half a year. Some things never change.”

She longed for that to apply to Shulk’s feelings for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn’t expecting Reyn to take over this chapter, haha. I also wasn’t expecting it to be this long… thought it would be 1k at the most. On other news, I’m still alive (somehow) and I do want to finish this! One more left…!


End file.
